In the Zone
by Alverrann
Summary: The resistance is all gone, but Captain Kirkland might just have to gather its remnants when he realizes that piracy isn't enough. The tyranny of the Zones and their Bosses is becoming too difficult to bear, and will require great power to overcome. Now if only Kirkland could find the courage and the right people. Set in AU of my creation. Will hopefully explain itself. NO ROMANCE
1. Prologue

**K. I love Hetalia, and I've had this idea just marinating in my head for a long time. I thought it was about time that I got it out of my system.**

 **Like it says in the summary, there's no romance (as of yet) and the four characters that are on there are only a few of the many that will be showing their faces. The whole story is basically from Arthur's POV though, so if you hate him, I'm sorry. (seriously, I'm sorry. How could you hate him?) The main characters will definitely be England, France, Prussia, America, Canada, Germany, Italy (North and South), Spain, Russia, China and Japan.**

 **I'm open to suggestions later on as which random characters I can add in passing.**

 **I probably won't update often, but I'll certainly try (that's literally as good as you're gonna get from me. I'm as flaky as dry paint. Again, sorry.)**

 **So again, like it said in the summary, this is an AU that I came up with while racked with boredom and after an attack of plot bunnies. The story will explain itself, but feel free to ask any questions in the reviews, and I'll explain it as best I can. Anyway, the story may start slow, but I promise action and good times ahead. :) ;)**

* * *

It was idiotic. To think that one man could manipulate an entire world, as though it were nothing … take what he liked from it, not enough to really be noticeable, but enough to be greedy. The whole of history to choose from, and for what? Entertainment? Kirkland snorted derisively at the thought. He was sure that the bosses found he and his rivals entertaining. It's not as though he wasn't known in every corner of his zone.

Ah, the zones. The Overseer, who all of the Bosses deferred to, … it had been his idea. It's as though some- … _loon_ (God forbid he ever say it out loud, as the Bosses would soon string him up by his thumbs) with a fascination for collecting, had come across an all powerful device that could pull anyone from anywhere and put them somewhere else. Kirkland, along with every other displaced person, had been told that the Overseer was their new god. As though He could be replaced. All the Overseer was, was an overgrown child, taking the history of a world and playing with it as though it were his personal nursery (he certainly must be childish if he was naive enough to believe that everyone he'd kidnapped would suddenly believe in him.

Kirkland looked out over the ocean, missing England. The _real_ England. Here, it was as though he was supposed to believe that this- this facsimile that had been created to look like _his_ England was the real thing. But England and France and a few more European countries were all they had, along with random continents across the way. There was no world. Not really. Just this phony look-alike of the real one. And it didn't even look alike. Captain Arthur Kirkland was a brilliant navigator and seaman in the Queen's Royal Navy. He knew what England and the other countries looked like on a map, and the 'new' England was a completely different shape, with Ireland and Scotland and Wales all jumbled up next to it.

Even his Queen wasn't real. Whoever this juvenile Overseer was, the babe obviously at least realized that he couldn't steal very big and important historical figures without being caught. So the big baby had been whisking away people from random instances, when their disappearances could be explained. A ship lost at sea, a lumberjack who went into the forest, and just never came back. Soon, the fake England and the countries surrounding it were full of displaced people, forced to listen to Queen Jane. _Queen Jane._ That wasn't his Queen. No. Arthur Kirkland knew that. The King in France was the same, with some silly name like Bernard. Spain and Portugal suffered the same fate, along with all of the other surrounding countries. It made the sea-hardened Englishman wince when he truly recalled first arriving.

There had been a disembodied voice, explaining the situation in a terrible, final way. It left he and his crew to their own devices after that, and they all knew exactly where they stood. Jane was no Queen of theirs. And thus, Arthur Kirkland began his notorious career as a pirate. He was just grateful that he wasn't one of the unlucky wretches born in this grey zone, since that's what it was. Droves of people from 1650 and its surrounding dates, all pulled here, for- for _who knew what_ purpose.

Yet, Kirkland was only part of one zone. The Explorer Zone, lovingly shortened to Ex-zone by the natives. He knew there were other zones as well, all different periods of time from Earth, all displaced. There was a Mid-zone, home to the same few countries, but during Medieval times when knights in shining armour fought off dragons to rescue beautiful damsels. It sickened him. Especially since the dragons were real. In this fake zone world, magic had more meaning than it ever used to. Kirkland had used to believe that anyone with magic had sold his soul to the devil. Now, with rather powerful, untapped, unmanageable magic himself … he wasn't so sure. In fact, everyone had magic of some sort, even in the Tech-zone, where they could supposedly fly without it.

Kirkland couldn't control his magic. He had no idea how. Magic was becoming dangerous to use, since the resistance had begun to try to usurp the leaders in each zone years before he'd been displaced. The Bosses were immediately called in, and the resistance had disappeared, with all its useful knowledge. All of the families of the resistance had been scattered from zone to zone, children who were born in the Mod-zone (Modern) suddenly found themselves in the Diesel-zone (1940's). Parents were executed.

From what Kirkland had heard, the most magic still used was in the Barb-zone, closely followed by the Mid-zone. Barbaric and Medieval. It made sense that the two most primitive zones would rely on magic the most. Yet the art of Jumping had been lost. Jumping, from what the Englishman had gathered through rumours that he pretended not to be interested in, was the art of leaping from zone to zone. A feat which had been immensely helpful to the resistance, but in the end, could not save them from the retribution that the Bosses rained on their heads. And now, with the resistance crushed and broken, all Kirkland had left was his crew and his dignity.

The Englishman had never taken part in the resistance, but he hated the Bosses. More even, than his fake Queen. Yet, with the resistance gone, all he could fight against was the latter, since he and his crew could only do so much.

And so he plundered, stole from, and was an all around nuisance to "Her Majesty", deciding that it was his duty as an Englishman to make certain that the true spirit of his country lived on. So naturally he expected to be hunted and fought and threatened by the people who had decided to just roll over and take life the way the Overseer had made it. Kirkland expected to become wanted and feared all throughout the Ex-zone.

The only thing he didn't expect was the competition. "Sir, he's coming straight at us!"

"Of course he is." Kirkland gave his most recent cabin boy his best one eyed stare (He'd found that he'd gotten a new respect after killing One Eye O'Brian, and as a trophy wore the eyepatch so no one could forget) wilting the young man almost immediately, "The Frog recognised my flag, just as I'd hoped."

"You changed flags so he would come?!" The boy's wide grey eyes expanded and Kirkland chuckled dryly,

"I've been feeling a little under the weather lately, and I think stabbing that pervert might just lift my spirits. Of course, I may have to do it twice …" He watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy paled. He didn't have time to properly enjoy it however, as just then his first mate Greenland shouted from the deck,

"Captain, shall we prepare the cannons?"

"Naturally." Kirkland's tone reverted to the clipped, hostile one that the boy was used to, and he found a small sliver of pleasure in the fact that the boy actually found comfort in it. That was his goal after all. To disarm people with a sinister and sadistic personality, so that they would give more respect to his more military side, "But don't fire until I give the word, unless you'd fancy an eyepatch of your own …?"

"Yes, sir." Greenland saluted and ran off to give the orders.

"What shall I do, sir?" James Renheart, the young lad, inquired, his hand quivering in a salute of his own.

"Go get my bed ready. If all goes well, I shall be sleeping much more peacefully tonight." As the lad ran off to do as told, Kirkland kept his eye on the approaching ship. The vanity of its Captain showed in the beautiful woman at the front and the silver stitching shimmering in the sails. The Englishman suppressed a snort as he finally spotted the Captain himself at the head, blond hair blowing backwards with a smirk on his face as his own telescope sighted Kirkland. He blew a kiss, and Kirkland put down his telescope in disgust, mouthing 'sod off' right back. He just knew that the idiot Frenchman laughed in reply. It would be so like him.

This would also be their third meeting in a month, and the Frog had won the last two rounds. Kirkland didn't intend to be beaten again.

"Sir!" Greenland's voice was shouting again, pulling him from his thoughts abruptly, "They're in range, what shall we do?"

"Nothing." Kirkland snapped as he descended to the lower deck, pulling back his blood-red, brass buttoned overcoat to reveal the gleaming hilt of his rapier. "This is my fight."

"But what if they fire their cannons?"

"Then bloody _fire back_ , you twat!" Kirkland looked sidelong at Greenland with a scowl. His first mate shrugged, having commented to his Captain not two days earlier that he was getting a little ruthless. Now Greenland's face merely reflected Kirkland's answer.

 _I would never truly become a pirate, so I would suggest you remember what we're truly fighting for. I haven't forgotten._ His first mate's dark eyes seemed to ask, 'who's forgotten?'

Kirkland deepened his scowl, turning away to approach the railing, straining his eye to see his target as the other ship pulled ever nearer. It didn't take him long to locate the prat. He was wearing his trademark silk shirt, hanging loose with the strings blowing in the wind while his scruffy chin tightened for his thin lips to form a smirk. Well, Kirkland couldn't actually see the smirk, but he knew it was there, and he knew what it looked like. He'd certainly seen it up close often enough.

A silence seemed to fall as the ships neared each other. The sun was nigh near the horizon now, threatening to turn the sky red and gold, while the wind picked up, almost taking Kirkland's velvet feathered hat with it. The other ship turned as it neared, paralleling itself with Kirkland's. He could now read the name on the side, _C'est_ _Manifique_. His mouth turned into a scowl of its own accord. The Frog was anything but magnificent. His own ship, _Godspeed_ , made much more sense (not to mention that it gave credit where it was due).

Now, fifty feet apart, everything was still silent. The Frenchman was close enough that his smirk was now obvious, though Kirkland couldn't quite see the twinkling blue eyes. "Well Bonnefoy?" He called crisply across the short distance, and the wind stole his voice in another random gust. Captain Francis Bonnefoy heard it nonetheless,

"Angleterre, you put up your flag. I assumed you must have wanted to see me if you dropped your disguise as one of the Queen's men."

"At least one of us has the sense to have a disguise at all!" Kirkland called back, ignoring the idiotic nickname (He was English, yes, but he wasn't Eng _land_. He'd always figured that England would be female anyway), "It's a wonder that you haven't been strung up yet!"

"Oh, Angleterre. You always know just what to say!" Bonnefoy's irritating laugh floated back across, "Is that why you called me over? To warn me to disguise myself?"

"I couldn't care less about-"

"I'm touched, mon ami! I did not know that you cared!"

"I _don't_!" Kirkland finally barked.

"Why do we always have to fight?" Bonnefoy pouted, "We could benefit so much from each other! Why, I could teach you the benefits of a pair of tweezers, and you could give me a flag to disguise myself!"

"I would rather die than ever have you as an ally!" Kirkland bellowed, face red at the slight to his perhaps bushier than was normal eyebrows.

"Such cruel words!" The Frenchman clutched his chest, as though he'd been caused physical pain "Yet," His face turned coy, "I would rather you died, too."

"Was that a threat?!"

"Non, it was an invitation." The Frog looked ridiculously smug as he proffered his own rapier.

"I'll be the one to kill you, Bonnefoy." Kirkland promised.

"Bonne chance!" Again with the laugh, "Fire at will!"

Then their third battle of the month broke out, while Kirkland cooly removed his blunderbuss pistol from his belt with his left hand, drawing his sword with his right. He would teach that _Frog_ to insult him.

* * *

 **Again, any questions, feel free to ask. Also, if I'm portraying anyone out of character, I demand that you tell me. (of course, these characters are open to a lot of interpretation, so hopefully I'm in the clear) I did my best, and I'm going to get going on the next chapter ASAP.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Wow. Second chapter. Didn't see that happening as soon as it did. Well, miracles _can_ happen. **

**Anyway, I'm just going on a rough plan here, and I meant for the chapter to be about 4,000 words this time … but I think I may have gone over (whoops). So, just FYI, thanks to those who have taken interest in this. I will try to write more soon, so … don't think I've abandoned it. I promise I haven't.**

 **Anyway, there are some OCs in this chapter, but they won't be main contenders for much longer. I promise. :)**

 **Disclaimer (I guess i should say it): I don't own anything except for the characters that I invented, and the AU idea. SO! I'll let you get on with the story now!**

* * *

"Captain-" young James opened the door to Kirkland's cabin, and the light along with the sound were enough to make the Englishman's migraine return to the fore as he woke,

"Quiet, lad! No need to shout!"

"Sorry sir, but we've sighted a port and if the wind keeps, we should be there within the hour."

"Then the storm has passed?" Kirkland staggered to his feet, almost falling back onto his bed, not heeding the horror that immediately beset the boy,

"Oh, sir! You don't have to get up-"

"Nonsense Renheart." The cabin boy was at his side as he tripped again, "I'm the Captain, I'd like to see my own ship's status."

"But Mr. Greenland and the Doc-" James tried again, but it wasn't as strong a protest as before, and Kirkland smirked. The boy already knew he'd lost,

"Aren't the Captain of this ship."

"But-"

"But nothing, lad." Kirkland's voice turned steely, he hated being mothered.

"Aye, sir."

"Now, do we know where we're going to dock?"

"No, sir. Just that it's in England. The storm could have taken us leagues away from our original bearing." The boy said it so matter-of-factly that Kirkland instantly knew that he was quoting another crew member. Probably Greenland.

"Ah, good. And the rest of the crew?"

"Recovering sir."

"Good, 2 funerals were more than enough." Kirkland growled that, still angry at the loss. He'd planned on being the victorious one at the end of that battle, but in the end, it had been Bonnefoy's sword at his throat with the usual grating laugh,

~Hetalia~Flashback~Hetalia~

 _"Angleterre, it's a pity that you called me over, non? All you have done is pit a small Sloop of War against my Barque, and look who 'as the bigger crew? I believe we both have funerals to perform, but it was exciting to go toe to toe with you again."_

 _All of their men's fighting stopped as soon as their Captains were at a standoff. It had happened often enough, though this one had seemed more desperate and bloody than the others._

 _"I swear I'm going to be the one who kills you Bonnefoy." Kirkland spat._

 _"Ah, fighting til' the end. That's mon Angleterre." The Frenchman grinned, "It is a shame that you cannot control all of that magic that you seem to 'ave, then perhaps our battles would end differently, non?"_

 _"Why do you never end it?" Kirkland couldn't take this gloating any longer, and his green eye reflected his sharp anger, "Too difficult? Too cowardly?"_

 _"I suppose you could say that you 'ave grown on me." Bonnefoy shrugged, "If I killed you, it would end the fun that we always 'ave together, then my life would become boring again."_

 _"Well, it's not my fault that you're inherently dull." Kirkland had been surreptitiously sneaking his hand into his overcoat, ready to remove his knife and finish off the prat, but he was stopped by a swipe of the Frenchman's blade._

 _"Not that I am boring, but that you are interesting. Always with the salty replies! Zhat is mon Angleterre!" The Frog's accent thickened as he began to laugh. Kirkland once again reached for the knife, this time getting ahold of it. He never got a chance to throw it though, since suddenly Bonnefoy leaned in, "Until next time, mon ami."_

 _The last thing Kirkland remembered seeing was the hilt of Francis' saber._

~Hetalia~Flashback~Hetalia~

"Uh, sir?" James' small voice reached into Kirkland's reverie, pulling him from it. The boy must have been attempting to converse for a while, because he sounded desperate, "Should I go get Doctor Simon?"

"No, that won't be necessary." Kirkland waved off the young man's nervous fear, and let go of his shoulder. The Captain took a moment to steady himself, lifting his eyepatch for better balance, and then opened the door. Instantly, he was pushed backwards by an onslaught of wind that had been prevalent since the skirmish. James caught him, keeping him from toppling, and the boy kindly wrapped his overcoat around his shoulders. He was only in a loose silk shirt and pants, and he'd only remembered it when the wind tickled his empty neck and feet. Now was not the time to be putting on a cravat however. He had to know where they were docking. The sooner, the better.

It was grey and stormy outside, just as it had been earlier. He used James as a crutch to pull himself to the front of the ship, past quite a few of his men. They seemed surprised to see him, and he didn't even make it to the helm before Greenland appeared, "What are you doing out of bed?!"

"I'm finding out where we're docking, so we don't all get hanged." He replied as cooly as he could while leaning heavily on his cabin boy.

"We'll find out when we land, the storm's not turned us so badly that we don't know if it's our homeland." Greenland spoke patiently, "You always seem to forget sir, but I am your First Mate, and I do know what I'm doing."

"I'm the Captain, Greenland, unless _you've_ forgotten."

"But Simon's orders still stand. He's the ship doctor and he said you had a nasty concussion and the best thing for you _now_ is rest."

"Why didn't I get rest in the beginning then? Why wake me up and keep me awake at the beginning only to shove me into my cabin now?" Kirkland spoke with an acid tone, and Greenland responded with water,

"Sir, that's not how concussions work."

"So _you're_ the doctor now?"

Greenland sighed deeply, then shrugged, "I'll go get Simon." He started off, but was stopped almost immediately by Kirkland's hand,

"That's not necessary. There are men down there who are much worse off than me, there's no need to disturb the man in his work."

"Then back to bed." Greenland could be so _stubborn_.

"As soon as I find out where we're docking."

"Capta-"

"Oi!" Jack Staples, the man in the Crow's Nest, shouted down, "I just recognised it! We're comin' up on Renningham, sir!"

"Renningham?" Kirkland tried to move past Greenland to look for himself through the storm that still refused to lift, but his First wouldn't budge.

"Now you know. So back to bed."

"One day you'll make a fine officer." Kirkland scowled at Greenland, "But until that day, you just make a fine thorn in my side."

"I try, sir." Greenland grinned as James helped the Captain back towards his cabin.

Ooh, he hated Bonnefoy. That stupid _Frog_! He was probably off somewhere, laughing that _laugh_ as he gallivanted about, pretending to have noble intentions when he was really just a perverted pirate!

Kirkland muttered a grudging "thank you" as James hung his coat and closed the door, leaving him in darkness once again.

He worried about Renningham. It was a smaller port, with less militia, so the chance of he and his crew being apprehended wasn't as likely as if they'd landed in Wenton, or (heaven forbid) New London itself. Yet there was still the chance that there could be some Queensmen waiting for he and his crew there. That had happened once before, when they'd landed in Pitmuth. He'd lost several good men that day. He'd already lost two good men today, and he didn't fancy having to perform any more funerals.

Kirkland heard the shouts from his men as they neared the port and he smiled a little as the ship ran smoothly. Greenland really would make a fine officer one day. His crew was like a well oiled machine, running perfectly despite the fact that they were tired and missing two members. They all deserved a vacation in Renningham.

That was his last thought before he finally fell asleep.

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

 _"No!" A voice shouted in darkness, cracking with desperation, "No, you idiota! Donna you dare! If you touch it you're-a gonna get-"_

 _"There's no harm, see? I'm-a just fine!"_

 _"That isn't ours to touch!"_

 _"Oh, but Lovi, I'm fine! It's not_ on _."_

 _"Take your hand off of that, stupido!"_

 _"But there's nothing to be-" A crackling sound filled the darkness, along with a scream, "Aughh! Fratello!"_

 _"Feli!"_

 _"Lovino! Aiutami!"_

 _"Take-a my hand! Take it!"_

 _"I'm-a trying! It's-a too far away! Fratello! Fratello! Help-a me! Aiutami! Io non voglio morire!"_

 _"Prendi la mia mano!"_

 _"AUGH!"_

 _"FRATELLO!"_

 _"SALVAMI! SALVAM-"_

 _A bright flash of light preceded a whimper, "N-no. You- you_ stupid _idiota … s-stupido … io lo farò Uccidete i Bosses per il mio fratello …"_

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

Kirkland awoke to a gentle shaking, "Sir. Sir, we're here." James' voice dispelled his strange dream, and he sat up slowly, trying to get his bearings (which was a lot easier with the eyepatch off).

"Renningham?"

"Aye, sir."

"Right." Kirkland accepted the lad's help in pulling him to his feet with a grunt, "And the crew is on shore leave?"

"Aye, sir." James nodded, "Except for Greenland. He's talking to the Shipwright about repairs to _Godspeed_. Then he's heading to the merchant to trade."

"When did he become Captain …" Kirkland muttered as he pulled on his coat, ignoring his sore head, "And Simon?"

"He's still with the wounded down below, sir. Greenland is already requisitioning supplies for them."

"Greenland's commandeering my job." Kirkland shook his head as James helped him with his boots, replying with a small smile,

"No, sir. None of us would dare."

"Not even after I led two of the men to their deaths?" Kirkland knew he should have just kept his mouth shut. Young Renheart didn't have to know his insecurities. The boy answered kindly nonetheless.

"With all due respect, sir, we all hate Bonnefoy. We all wanted to win that-"

"And I let you down." Kirkland sighed as he stood again, struggling with his cravat.

"No sir. Bonnefoy is older and more experienced, but he made a mistake."

"Hmm?" Kirkland leveled the boy with a look, "And what mistake would that be?"

"Not killing us when he had the chance."

"Oh." Kirkland was taken aback by the frankness of James' tone, "I suppose that _was_ a mistake."

"He may have gotten one up on us out there, but we'll be ready for him next time." The lad was emphatic, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

"We most certainly will."

The windstorm still hadn't completely blown over by the time Kirkland stepped out of his cabin, and as a result, he almost lost his hat. Luckily, James caught it from behind him, handing it back with a bright smile. The Englishman thanked him politely before pulling his eyepatch back down over his left eye and stepping forward as crisply as his migraine and the wind allowed.

He stepped off the gangplank onto the dock, never feeling more than now how solid the earth was. Then he turned to James, "I'm assuming the crew is at the local Inn?"

"And Tavern." The boy confirmed, then began to walk, leading the way.

"Ah, but where is Greenland?" Kirkland didn't follow, knowing that his duty as a Captain meant that he first see to his injured ship and crew.

"He told me to take you to the Inn. So did Doctor Simon."

"And they outrank me?" Kirkland tried to appear imposing, and the lad frowned,

"Well, they said that you weren't well. They said that some real food at the Inn along with a good night's rest would do you some good."

"Need I remind you who the Captain is?"

"No, sir." James shook his head, "But Simon says he outranks you if you're sick or injured."

"Oh, so I need to remind _Simon_ who the Captain is." Kirkland swiveled back towards the ship, and would have fallen if not for James' steadying hand.

"Sir, he's under Greenland's orders."

"Ah, so Greenland-"

"Mr. Greenland will be at the Inn tonight. Can't you remind him then?" His cabin boy had a pleading look, and after a moment of consternation, Kirkland sighed.

"I ... suppose it can wait. Lead the way."

"Aye, sir." James led the way with a bounce in his step. Kirkland couldn't help but feel that he had been played.

The cobblestone street didn't trip him up as much as the dock had, thankfully, so Kirkland and his young charge made good time to the large Tavern/Inn, _The Beached Whale_. He scoffed at the name, wondering why they couldn't ever name one something respectable. Then again, he thought as he walked in to the shouts of his crew, it's not as though respectable people were the usual patrons. "Hoy, it's the Captain!" There was Staples, with his usual boisterous laugh, "Come an' 'ave a pint sir!"

"Doctor Simon said the Captain was to have soup, and then to bed." James responded before Kirkland could, and his face twisted into an involuntary scowl,

"I can have whatever I want!"

"Oh, but sir, it wouldn't do for you to be muddled when you talk to Greenland later." James gave him that honest, faithful look once again and he found himself agreeing,

"Oh, all right. But after that, I drink what I want."

"Of course, sir!"

Kirkand cut off his laughing crew with a fiery green look, then sat at a table and waited for the large woman to come bustling out. She seemed shocked by the sudden silence in the room till she saw him. Oh, he loved when his reputation preceded him. Now she looked scared, approaching slowly with trembling fingers holding a pitcher of ale. "I- Is there somethin' I can get for ye?"

He turned his eye on her and she added a hasty, "sir!"

He heard a stifled snort from one of his crew (probably Staples) as he replied calmly, "The broth?" Holding up a large gold coin.

"Oh- o- of course!" She took the coin, tucking it into her apron before quickly returning to the kitchen, completely forgetting to refill any mugs to the amusement and annoyance of Kirkland's unruly crew.

The silence remained but for the whispering of his crew, and in it, Kirkland spotted James' look of complete and utter hero-worship. The boy was grinning like an idiot, but before Kirkland could comment on it (He loved confusing his crew, but was beginning to suspect that they'd caught on) the woman came back. She set down a porcelain bowl that must have been ridiculously expensive, filled to the brim with warm broth, "I- is there, uh, anything else I can get for you?" Kirkland spotted what must have been her husband peeking around the corner of the kitchen.

"Yes. I'd like to speak to the Innkeeper."

The grubby man flinched as though he'd been struck, then came slowly out of the kitchen, coming to stand beside his trembling wife, "You, eh- called, sir?"

"Yes, I did." Kirkland spoke sharply, watching with satisfaction as the man flinched again, "I'd like your best room for tonight."

"But-" The woman was cut off when her husband growled, giving her a look.

"Anyfing for a gen'leman such as yerself, sir."

"Is there something wrong with the room?" Putting both of them on the spot showed a lot about their character. The husband moved his wife slightly in front of him, causing Kirkland's lip to rise in disgust.

"No, sir. 's our best room, jus' like you asked fer."

Kirkland didn't grace him with a response, merely looking at the wife, who trembled before blurting, "There's already a guest in our best room, beggin' yer pardon, sir. We can' jus frow anovver guest out inta th' cold. 'Specially when 'es already paid ..." Her husband's face was murderous, but Kirkland nodded,

"I understand. I'll take the next best room."

"Oh thank you, sir!" The woman gushed before she could stop herself, and was swiftly silenced by her husband. Kirkland was beginning to become truly irked by the man, so he figured that now was as good a time as any to take the sleazy man down a couple of pegs.

"Will this cover the expenses?" He held up a purse of gold coins to the man, who looked shell shocked for a moment before smiling,

"I think it's jus' enough."

"Good." Kirkland handed it to the man's wife, much to the surprise of the Innkeeper. The man seemed to think for a moment, then went to take it from her, only to have a sword at his neck, "Tis' a sad day when pirates treat wives better than their husbands."

The man blinked, his face shadowed with very real fear, yet his wife spoke up, "Oh, please don' be 'urtin' 'im, sir! He's still me husband, no matter 'ow I'm treated!"

"You're a lucky man." Kirkland removed his blade with as much contempt as he could possibly muster, "Not because I now spare your life, but because your wife cares for you much more than you deserve."

"Thank you-" The man began, but Kirkland cut him off harshly, spittle flying from his lips in utter fury,

"Do _not_ thank me! Your wife is the one who saved you! That money is hers, and if I find that it has exchanged hands; if I find that you have again treated her as you would a dog, _you_ will be begging for her forgiveness _and_ your life! Am I clear?"

"Q-quite clear, s-sir." The man swallowed harshly past what Kirkland was certain at this point was _quite_ a lump.

"Good. See that it remains so." Kirkland dismissed the man mentally, sure that his part was done, "Now, my broth is cold-" He'd hardly finished the sentence before the man grabbed the bowl,

"I'll warm it at once, sir!" Then it was whisked away, leaving all of the Captain's men grinning like loons and the Innkeeper's wife holding a bag of gold with her mouth in a permanent 'o'. They soon stopped grinning when his eye passed over them, quickly going back to their ale. Yet James' smile never left his face, yes, Kirkland would have to do something about that.

The Innkeeper soon returned, placing the bowl down so quickly that it spilled a little, and he wiped it up hurriedly with his grubby apron, "I've warmed it, sir. Is there anyfing else I can-"

"You can _leave_."

"O-oh, o' course-"

"At once."

"Aye, sir." The man backed into the kitchen subserviently, and Kirkland stifled a smile. That was how he'd become a Captain. There would be no knaves like that on _his_ watch.

"Sir …?" The wife spoke hesitantly, still in the same place with the sack of gold.

"Hmm." He looked at her, and she averted her eyes. After a pause she forged ahead brazenly,

"Truly, are you a pirate, sir?"

"Yes." Kirkland twitched an eyebrow up in question, prompting her to go on,

"'ow then, can ye be such a gen'leman?"

"I only do as I was taught by by my King and Queen and country."

"King?" She seemed confused, but then seemed to remember. It bothered Kirkland that so many people forgot the old days, content with the Bosses and the Zones. He was patient with her nonetheless as she recalled. "Is that why you became a- a pirate, sir?"

"Yes."

"For your King and Queen?"

" _Our_ King and Queen." His look turned dark.

"O-oh, pardon-"

"Fine. It's fine." Kirkland waved her off, and she seemed to understand, leaving immediately.

The silence was loud, broken only by the sound of his spoon on the bowl. His men were quiet, not talking, or even whispering anymore. He didn't pay any attention to that though. HIs thoughts were filled with _home_.

Thinking of the England that he was truly from saddened him. How could others forget it? How could they forget their King and their real Queen? He never would, this he vowed.

He finished and sat, content with the quiet that had eased his ever present headache to a dull throb.

"You're finished?" James ruined the silence, even though it was obvious. Yet Kirkland humoured the lad, curious as to where young Renheart was going with the inquiry.

"Yes."

"Then you ought to go to bed, sir."

Kirkland whipped his head to look at the boy, his eye hard, "To bed? Simon's orders, I presume?"

"Oh no, sir!" The boy looked chagrined, "You just seem tired, and I'll fetch you when Greenland arrives."

"Oh, you will, will you?" Kirkland was skeptical. His crew made no comment on the matter, all of them studying their tankards as though this had absolutely nothing to do with them. And it _didn't_! His rest and sleep had nothing to do with anyone but himself, so he narrowed his eyes at Renheart.

"Oh, yes sir!" The lad stood and saluted, while his overly loud exclamation woke his Captain's headache, "How else could you remind him who is Captain?!"

"I can wait for him here." Kirkland finally decided that the boy was genuine, but just in case, he was not going to rest at all until the drubbing was over.

"Uh, with all due respect-" James was pinned by a one-eyed glare before he had the chance to finish the sentence.

"Is this insubordination?"

"Oh, no sir!" James said it again, his voice filled with horror (and honestly, Kirkland knew there was no way it would ever be insubordination, not with Renheart), "I just- the men are all down here sir, and they'd like to let off some steam after the battle … but how can they do that with you here?"

"I never told them to be quiet." And Kirkland hadn't. He just felt smug satisfaction when they all went silent anyway.

"But they know better, sir." James responded automatically, and had Kirkland's full attention once more, "We all know you have a migraine sir, and I doubt the light or the noise here will help it. You ought to be in tip top condition when you see Greenland, after all. So perhaps taking a break in a dark room would do your mind some good …" The lad trailed off at Kirkland's look, "Sir?"

"Renheart? Has anyone ever told you that you're persistent?"

"I learned from the best, sir!" The boy saluted again and Kirkland waved it down,

"Can you promise me you'll wake me?"

"Oh, you have my word sir! I'll do my best to wake you as soon as Greenland arrives."

"Good." Kirkland stood, having had enough of all of this mollycoddling, "Innkeeper!"

"Here, sir!" The man came out of the kitchen so fast he nearly tripped.

"The key to my room?" Kirkland held out his hand expectantly.

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but we're jus' an 'umble Inn. We don't get many visitors, so we've never 'ad the funds fer a proper lock system …" The man finished fearfully, and it made Kirkland's heart lift to see the humility he'd managed to bestow since his short visit.

"Then which room is it?"

"Room number 7, sir. Top floor." The man surrendered the information instantly, then after a short pause, "Will there be anyfing your Lordship might need-"

"Solitude." Kirkland responded, "Just see that I'm not disturbed by anyone except," He clapped James on the shoulder, "this lad here."

"It will be done, sir." The man retreated with the bowl, and Kirkland made his way to the stairs. Renheart followed, and the Captain dismissed him,

"Stay here and wait for Greenland."

"I could help you to your room-"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking myself!" Kirkland hadn't meant to snap, but his migraine was really beginning to pound, "Just … wait here for Greenland."

"Yes, sir." James stayed by the bottom of the stairs, subdued.

Arthur Kirkland was a proud man. Proud of his heritage, and proud of his abilities. There was only so much mothering he could take before he'd had enough. He carried himself up the stairs with as much dignity that he could muster, ignoring the couple of times that his feet caught the steps. When he'd reached the third floor, it was much simpler. There was room 7, right across from room 8, which he assumed was the 'best' room that the Inn had to offer.

So it also must have been the already occupied room.

He was proved right a moment later when the door swung open suddenly, revealing a tall man with a head of curly red hair and a pair of green eyes that matched Kirkland's own.

"So." The man was wearing a kilt, and his scottish brogue soon filled the small hallway, " _You're_ the one givin' off all o' tha' strong magic!"

"Sorry?" Kirkland wasn't sure he'd heard right, but the man seemed set,

"I could feel it seepin' righ' up through the floor! You have no control over it, boyo, but ye've got more than I've ever felt in one place … in me whole life …" He seemed dazed.

"Are you drunk?" Kirkland tried to be polite, but he was having trouble. The scot kept leaning in close to look him eyes to eye, and his breath smelt of scotch, so it was a safe assumption.

"I'm repressed!" The man abruptly declared, "It's all been forced away! Deep doon where I'll never get at it again withoot help!" His shouting was bringing Kirkland's headache back, and he was tempted to pull his sword on the man.

"Look, I'm not certain what you're talking about, but I'm Captain Kirkland, perhaps you've he-"

"Alistair." The man threw his hand out in greeting. It went ignored.

"I'm a _pirate_." Kirkland tried to put emphasis on it, tried to get it through the man's skull, "I pillage and plunder and _kill_ people. Now unless you want to be next-"

"Och, a-course ye'r a pirate, laddie! This isnae our home! We all know it! So, … we fight back how we can …" The man trailed off, just as Kirkland's interest was piqued.

"Wha- … What are you talking about?" He asked it with real intent this time, actually wanting to know the answer. If only the man wasn't so far gone!

"You, me, all o' the others … we fight back!" His eyes suddenly saddened, "We fought back ... They foond us, an' they stopped us … took our leaders! Took our skills …" Alistair (if he was to be believed) sighed, and then perked up a little, "But there are still some o' us left. Och, aye, they couldnae stop all o' us! I may be tapped oot, but you!" His eyes sparkled as he looked at Kirkland, "I could teach you!"

"Teach me what?" Kirkland was valiantly ignoring his headache as he pieced together the fragments that the man gave him.

"I could teach you control. Control o'er your magic!"

"You know magic?" Kirkland couldn't help the excitement that bubbled inside of him, but it was dashed when the man responded,

"Aye, til' they took it."

"You were part of the resistance?" Kirkland guessed. It was the only thing that made any sense, and he'd had his suspicions since the man had claimed that this wasn't his home.

"I _am_ part o' the resistance!" The Scot declared proudly, "We might' be scattered, but that doesnae mean tha' we're gone!"

"But your magic is gone?"

"Och, they suppressed i'." Alistair nodded mournfully, "I used tae have as much as you, laddie. Now I'm reduced tae card tricks an' light shows …"

"Oh. But you still have contact with the resistance?"

"Nay, not really … old Alistair is a drunkard now, but I could show ye a few tricks that'd throw 'em!"

"You can still teach me?"

"I can help ye, but everyone's magic is differen' an' I'm no' a real teacher. I could only help ye find one …" The scot trailed off.

"Where?" There was nothing Kirkland wanted more than to go home, and if the resistance was the way, he'd do it. Yet the Scot's mournful look dampened his excitement.

"I cannae say."

"What? You just said you could help!"

"Aye, an' I kin … but I thin' … I thin' now's nae the time."

"What?!" Kirkland was having trouble ignoring his headache now, and the Scot was not helping at all.

"Now's nae the time. I cannae help ye now."

"Why not?!" Kirkland was aware that his voice was rising, and his migraine was only getting worse.

"It's just nae righ'." The man scowled, as though he weren't sure of himself, looking to the sky as though it held the answer.

"What's not right about it?" Captain Kirkland, who prided himself on his self control, was now shouting, his patience worn away.

"Ach, I donnae know! The Fae, they donnae tell me everythin', only tha' it's nae righ'!"

"Then what am I-" Kirkland was cut off by a small card, held an inch away from his nose in a ruddy fist,

"Take it, laddie. I- I'll help ye when I kin … but tha's me last token …"

"What is it?"

"Me las' token." Alistair repeated it as he backed away, stumbling drunkenly back into his room and closing the door.

Kirkland looked at the paper. Blank. What on earth was going on?! The man couldn't just promise him everything he'd ever wanted and then totter off drunkenly! He knocked at the Scot's door as politely as he could, but he was soon pounding on it as there was still no answer.

Finally, he slammed it open- to an empty room.

No one was there, and everything was neat and clean. There was no smell, even though the man had reeked of scotch, and the usually much more reserved Captain found himself shouting, "This isn't allowed! You're not allowed to come get my hopes up and then leave me in the lurch! Come back! Come back right now and explain yourself! COME BA-"

"Uh, … sir?"

Kirkland whirled around to face James, who was pale as a sheet. "What is it lad? Is Greenland here?" The boy shook his head no, still pale. Kirkland tucked the card into the pocket of his breeches, frowning at the boy's obvious discomfiture. "Well, out with it! What's the matter?!" James' looked as though he was having trouble wording what he wanted to say, and Kirkland found that his frayed mind immediately assumed the worst, "Did one of the men not make it?! Did Simon lose one?!"

"Uh, no sir." James finally choked out.

"Then what-"

"It's just that, I heard you shouting, and when I came up to see who was bothering you-"

"Oh, _him_." Kirkland growled at the empty room, "He up and ran off on me, but don't worry. I'll find him eventually."

"B-but in the meantime … you should rest, sir." Renheart looked as though he had swallowed something sour, "You don't look well at all."

"Neither do you, boy." Kirkland responded quite seriously, then sighed, "You're right. Perhaps a small rest would do me some good."

"I'll tell the men not to get too loud …" The boy looked a little better than he had before, and Kirkland let slip a smile that, if he'd been more awake, he'd have stifled.

"Thank you, James. At this rate, you'll be the best pirate of them all."

"Thank _you_ , sir!" The boy saluted before asking, "I-is there anything you'd like me to do before-"

"No, you've done more than enough, lad." Kirkland dismissed him with a wave of his hand, opening the door to his own room and closing it quietly behind him.

Ah, the blessed darkness … It soothed his tired eye, and he felt safe lifting the patch up, allowing his other eye to focus in immediately on the dark room. He removed his coat, hanging it up, but left his boots on as he laid down on the bed.

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking back on his conversation with Alistair. "But what am I supposed to do? You didn't even tell me …" He trailed off as his eyes closed of their own accord, the silence permeating his very being and bringing with it a sense of calm that lulled him into a daydream. A daydream of _his_ England. By this time, his subconscious was slowly taking control, and with a long, deep breath, he finally fell asleep.

* * *

 **Dang that was long! Yeahp, that's over 4,000 words (A/N not included) It's actually more like 5,000. sorry if you like short stuff.**

 **So, I wasn't even planning on adding Scotland, but then my brain was all like, 'psych!' And now he's an important character.**

 **The dream involving the Italy brothers wasn't originally planned either. It just … fit. I promise it will all make sense (hopefully) soon.**

 **I'm sorry if the story seemed to ramble, I promise I know where I'm going! I'm just … a rambly (Is that a word?) kind of person ...**

 **For those of you who will inevitable complain that you couldn't read Scotland's or the Innkeepers dialect, suck it up, cuz that's how I write (also, I'm too lazy to go back and change it.)**

 **Don't worry. Soon it won't be just England, with his random crew that I honestly came up with on the spot (should I be admitting this?). Soon We'll have other characters to enjoy too.**

 **And if the AU world that I'm attempting to lay out here is confusing at all, just tell me, and I'll try to do a better job.**

 **If you guys can think of any countries that you really love and want me to add in, lemme know, and I'll see what I can do. Fair warning, I don't know a lot of countries as well as the ones I'm writing about (duh, or I'd add 'em on my own) So if you request the nordics or something, you better give me a good reason to add them, since I know very little about them.**

 **Anyway, now that I've made a ton of promises, I'll get to writing more (probably). If you're impatient for more, nothing gives me more incentive than a good, long review (hint hint).**


	3. Chapter 2

**As promised, here's the next one. I swear, they're just getting longer ...**

 **For those of you who are having trouble waiting for your favorite character, be patient. I promise we'll get** **there! I swear, I've had this planned out for a while!**

 **Anyway, overall DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia (there, that cover it) I only own what I invented (I might not even own that. I think I gave it to Hetalia as tribute.**

 **Okay, you can read now. I'm done. :)**

* * *

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

 _"Vater! Vater! Nein! Las ihn gehen! Let him go!" The shrill voice that echoed in the empty darkness was brimming with tremulous bravery, shared by an even smaller, fear filled voice,_

 _"Where are dey taking him, bruder?!"_

 _"Let him go! Las ihn gehen!" There was a loud, resounding slap, followed by a small_ _shriek,_

 _"Gilbert!"_

 _"Don't touch my so-" this time it was a crack instead of a slap._

 _"L-let Vat-vater go …" The ever persistent young voice struggled to form the words through what was undoubtably a fair amount of pain._

 _"Your Father is an enemy of the Overseer. You know this, boy." A cold voice filtered in, "You know why we must take him."_

 _"Nein! Nein! He is innocent!"_

 _"You teach your children to lie for you?"_

 _"N-nein …" There was a deep shuddering breath, "Gil-Gilbert … you must care … f-for Ludwig …"_

 _"Vater!" The youngest voice cried, "Warum?! Where are-" Another slap, yet this time, two voices shouted,_

 _"LUDWIG!"_

 _"Leave mein Bruder ALONE!" The older child gave a frightening shout, and there was another crack,_

 _"GILBERT! Vater, sie töteten Gilbert!" The youngest began to cry._

 _"Bitte ... Bitte, nicht mein Sohn …"_

 _"If you wish your son to live, you'll come willingly."_

 _"V-Va … Vat-er."_

 _"Gilbert?!" The smaller child's voice leapt with hope._

 _"Take the little one too."_

 _"Nein! You said you would spare him!"_

 _"We will, but we cannot allow him to stay with his brother. That will only invite rebellion."_

 _"Ahh! Ach! Let me go! Nein! Vater! Bruder!"_

 _"Lu-Lud-wig-"_

 _"Gilbert! Vater! Lass mich gehen! I do not want to leave! Bruder! Vater!"_

 _"Las ihn gehen!"_

 _"L-ludwig …"_

 _"Bitte, nein! Nein, bitte, nein!"_

 _"Shut him up." The screaming was immediately muffled._

 _"Leave my sons together! They're just children!"_

 _"Yes, you began teaching them early."_

 _"Bitte! All they will have left is each other!"_

 _"Not anymore. Take them away." The cold voice commanded, and the protesting father was dragged off._

 _"And the boy?" A firm voice questioned,_

 _"Jump him."_

 _The stifled screams faded away._

 _"Ludwig … nein …"_

 _"You still want to fight, boy?"_

 _There was silence for a moment, but then the distinct sound of spitting slipped from the darkness._

 _"You do realize that I can still kill your brother, right?"_

 _A whimper was the instant response, "Bitte, …Ich werde alles tun …"_

 _"You'll do anything?"_

 _"Ja, … bitte … mein Bruder …"_

 _"Very well."_

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

Kirkland awoke to a light prodding, and peeked his eyes open slowly, attempting to focus on the bespectacled face before him, "… Simon?"

"Captain!" The older Doctor sat back with satisfaction, "You're awake!"

"Well how could I not be with you poking me?!"

"How do you feel, sir? Besides the usual crabbiness, that is?" Simon chuckled, but Kirkland could see an underlying current of fear and worry.

"Much better, actually." Kirkland replied honestly, not mentioning his strange dream. Already it was fading, "Is something wrong?"

"Well-" Simon didn't even get to finish before his Captain cut him off,

"Is it one of the men?"

"No sir, it's-"

"Did some Queensmen arrive?"

"No. It's you sir." Simon said it fast, cutting off Kirkland's next guess.

"Wha- me?" He sat straight up in bed, his head giving a twinge, yet nothing more.

"Yes, sir." Simon spoke seriously, "We were worried because-"

"Well I'm just fine." The Pirate snapped in annoyance, watching slight relief enter the Doctor's expression,

"Oh good! James explained that you were shouting at nobody last night, and we thought-"

"It wasn't nobody!" Kirkland growled as he got to his feet (which were now bare, despite having gone to sleep with his boots on), but it was obviously the wrong thing to say, as Simon appeared by his elbow right after he said it,

"You should lie down-"

"Stop being such a woman, Simon! I promise I'm just fine!" Kirkland wrenched his arm from his doctor's grasp as he spoke, pulling on his coat, "At this point, I'm only hungry, but if you keep trying to treat me like a child, I'll soon be angry as well!"

"Sir, if you're having hallucinations you need to let me check you over-"

"I did not hallucinate!" Kirkland stopped before pulling down his eyepatch, giving the doctor a full two eyed glare, "I met an idiotic Scotsman last night, drunk as could be. He told me he could help me learn magic! I intend to learn it, and I intend to go home!" He flipped the eyepatch down with an air of finality.

"Sir ..." Simon tried again, but was ignored as the Captain pulled on his boots, "Sir-"

"Simon, I don't want to hear any more about it!" Kirkland stood, pulling his belt on last, "I know what I saw last night, and it was no illusion." As he checked his gun, he suddenly remembered the card, "See here!" He pulled the blank slip out as proof, "He gave me this!"

"But what-" Simon still seemed skeptical, but squinted at the card nonetheless.

"I don't know what it does, but he told me it was his last token, so it must be important."

"But what does-"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

"How could I know?! First he offers me help, and then suddenly he's just gone!" Kirkland retracted the card, "And all he leaves me is a blank card! But I'm going to find him, and I think this card may help …" He sighed suddenly, twiddling the card in his fingers, "Maybe you're right, maybe I do need medical attention."

"But, sir-"

"Ah! That wasn't an invitation!"

"Sir-"

"Simon, don't the words 'give up' mean anything to you?" Kirkland tucked the slip of paper away again, shaking his head, "You and James, I could swear you're related."

"But sir!"

"What?!" Kirkland whirled on the doctor, but the man didn't flinch, merely pointing at the paper,

"It's _not_ blank."

"It- What?!" The Captain fumbled the card back out as quickly as he could manage, holding it close to his face in disbelief. Sure enough, it had one word written in bold across it,

 **STAY**

"What on- …" Kirkland trailed off, tracing the word with his finger and mouthing it. Then he looked up into Simon's carefully blank face, "I swear this wasn't here last night."

There was no reply, only a slight tilting of the man's head and a cocked eyebrow.

"Simon, I swear to you; I am _not_ mad."

"I believe you, sir."

"Please believe-" Kirkland paused, looking at the doctor with suspicion, "You do?"

"Of course sir. Besides, you are magical, and your description of the man you met fits the description of the patron from across the hall who, according to the Innkeeper and his wife, disappeared sometime last night." Simon spoke matter-of-factly, and then quickly added, "And if I disagree, I may just be run through."

"Don't doubt it." Kirkland's lip twitched at the doctor's humour, but then he prepared to step out in the hall, and he couldn't afford to be caught smiling by anyone other than Simon.

He quickly tucked the slip of paper back into its place before stepping resolutely out into the hall. The Inn was silent, and rightly so. It was probably about 10:00 in the morning by the sun, and his men no doubt were all plagued by headaches back at the ship. He descended the stairs in an even step, entering the tavern part of the Inn with a swagger.

"Sir! You're awake!" James was already sitting down, and Greenland was right next to him.

"Ah, Greenland!" Kirkland sat down, his eye never leaving his First, who was not in the least intimidated. Kirkland frowned at that. When had the man lost his fear for him?

"Captain." Greenland nodded respectfully, looking at Simon over his shoulder and giving a different nod. Kirkland was _certain_ that they'd just communicated over him, and promised himself that he'd deal with their insubordinate ways later. Right now, he had to talk to Renheart.

"Yes, I am awake, James." He was vaguely aware of Simon entering the kitchen in his peripheral, but his focus was solely on the lad, "Yet, I seem to recall that Simon was the one who woke me."

"Yes sir, he was." James could obviously tell where this was going, and his eyes kept twitching, as though they were desperate to break contact, but Renheart refused to let them.

Brave lad.

"I also seem to recall a promise that you would be the one to wake me, as soon as Greenland arrived."

"I promised I would try." The boy replied, his eyes flickering to Greenland.

Simon chose that moment to come back out of the kitchen with a bowl of broth and a mug of water. Kirkland didn't acknowledge him, still spearing Renheart, "You obviously didn't try hard enough …"

"Oh but-"

"But?! But what?! You failed in your duty and went back on your word?"

"It was me, sir." Greenland responded before James could, "I wouldn't let him near you sir. You were asleep, and as acting Captain, I decided that you needed sleep more than I needed a good talking to." The man had the gall to look innocent as he said that ridiculous statement, and Kirkland found himself staring. "Sir? Are you all right?"

"I'm being played, that's what I am." Kirkland looked at all of them in turn, but all he got in response was,

"You ought to eat your soup before it gets cold, sir." From Simon.

"You're _all_ commandeering my job!" Kirkland accused, ignoring the soup. He was immediately surrounded by three innocents,

"Oh, we would _never_ presume-"

"You're the only Captain here-"

"We could never fill those-"

"All right!" Kirkland held up a hand, "I know when I'm fighting a losing battle-"

"But you still try!" Renheart spoke jubilantly, "And that's why _you're_ the Captain!" He then swiftly wilted under his companions eyes and belatedly added, "Sir."

"I propose a truce." The Captain stifled a smile at the lad's exuberance.

"Conditions?" Greenland asked, all seriousness.

"That I drub you all like you deserve, … _after_ breakfast."

"Accepted." Simon spoke immediately. Kirkland eyed him for a moment, but finally nodded.

"Good."

He began eating the soup quietly, thinking about how lucky he was to have such a devoted crew. Greenland, Simon and Renheart all retreated to a corner of the tavern, speaking in hushed tones so as to not disturb him. He figured that they must have already eaten, and so focused on his own food rather than them. At some point, his mind wandered back to Alistair and the slip of paper that seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket.

Stay? Was that some sort of code? Was it literal? It must have been literal, but did it mean stay in this port? Stay on as Captain? Stay on land? Stay in the Inn? Perhaps even stay in the very room that he first read it in? He had so many questions, and yet the only one who could answer them was gone. Vanished into thin air (that still irked him). He certainly hoped that he'd discover the true meaning soon, knowing that his chance at learning magic and making a real difference all rode on the Scot.

Kirkland wished, not for the first time, that he could just control his magic. The Scot could do better than him, and he'd apparently been suppressed! The Englishman finished his broth with a forlorn sigh, lost in thought.

That's why it was such a surprise when the Tavern door slammed open, revealing a disheveled, out of breath Jack Staples, "Captain!"

"What happened?" Kirkland stood, and in the back of his mind, he recognised the fact that his three insubordinate crewman in the corner had gone silent.

"It's Bonnefoy sir! 'is ship is comin' ta port!"

"What?!" Kirkland started forward, but was stopped by Simon's,

"Sir?"

"Simon, now's not the time!" He waved the doctor off as he continued forward, standing right in front of Staples, "How long? Has he recognised us?"

"I'm sure 'e 'asn't recognised us, sir. We changed the flags again, an' 'es too far off. 'E should ge' 'ere in a couple o' hours, give or take." Staples stood at attention while Kirkland cursed,

"We must set sail at once. We can't be caught here by him."

"Sir!" Greenland's voice was much sharper than Simon's and Kirkland turned to it in utter annoyance,

"If you tell me to rest, Greenland, I'll shoot you here and now. I can only be pushed so far."

"I know sir, but if I may make a suggestion-"

"No you may not! We don't have time to talk and suggest! We must leave _now_!"

"No sir," Greenland pushed forward anyway, and Kirkland felt his eyebrow twitch, " _We_ must leave now. You must _stay_."

"What are you going on abou-" Kirkland cut himself off, "You think that's what it means?"

"We've all thought about it sir, and that's the only answer we feel good about." Greenland nodded towards Simon and Renheart, "We feel that for you to truly get back England, _our_ England, you should listen to the card, and it says to stay."

"We want the Bosses overthrown as badly as you, sir." Simon's voice was quiet, but carried a firm meaning, "And if we have to say goodbye to you to achieve that, we're willing."

"Wot's goin' on 'ere?!" Staples was understandably lost.

"You really feel that this is best?" Kirkland looked at each one of them. This was a big step.

"Aye, sir." They spoke in unison (minus poor Jack).

"Very well. I'll stay and try to keep from running into Frogface." They all began grinning like idiots immediately, while Mr. Staples looked on in utter confusion.

"Captain Kirkland, it was an honor to serve with you, and I respectfully assume your position." Greenland saluted seriously, and then the grin returned, "Stab 'em once for me, sir."

"Of course!" Kirkland returned the salute hastily, "Now go! Go! You haven't much time if you want to miss _C'est Manifique_!"

"Aye sir!" They dutifully ran out and Kirkland stood in the echo of the goodbye that should have been longer.

"Godspeed …" He whispered. He was vaguely aware of what a large step he'd just taken, and it took a moment to shake it off and turn around. He'd call the Innkeeper and-

"Renheart?!"

"Sir!" Sure enough, there stood young James, just where he had before. How had Kirkland missed him?

"What are you doing?! You're going to miss the-"

"We agreed that I would stay on with you sir!" Renheart dutifully saluted, and then turned sheepish, "I am _your_ cabin boy. It'd feel wrong to do it for Greenland …"

"You three really _did_ take over." Kirkland sat down in shock, by now recognising that attempting to get the boy to go would be a fruitless endeavor, "I wasn't even consulted! A moment ago I was Captain Kirkland, and now-"

"You're still the Captain, sir!" James grinned, and Kirkland could see the hero-worship in his eyes, just as he had before. It was time to put the lad in his place. He'd taken far too many liberties, and now that his accomplices were gone, Kirkland had to at least put _someone_ in their place. His mind needed the distraction.

"I'm glad you finally noticed." He said it sharply, and the lad's grin disappeared at once, his salute coming right back up to where it belonged. The Englishman had to bite back a smile at that, continuing his lecture as he began to pace back and forth, "Now that it's just the two of us, you have to be as loyal as an entire _crew_ of men! You can't afford to be anything but vigilant! You must be my eyes and my ears where I _cannot_ be. _You_ must speak in my stead when I am not present. You are my First Mate. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" The lad's hand trembled from how taught his muscles were as he held the salute. Kirkland did smile now, but it was on his about face, and he quickly reverted to his stiff upper lip as he turned towards Renheart again.

"You will go to the Innkeeper and you will pretend to be a young adventurer with a fair amount of money, James Renheart, who is living in room 7. Tell the Innkeeper that as far as he's concerned, I don't exist until I appear in the room, and even then, he's not to mention or acknowledge me unless I speak directly to him! Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good." Kirkland started towards the stairs, "Now hop to it, and I'd like dinner brought to my room at around 6:00. Inform me the moment the Frog arrives."

"Yes, sir!" Renheart ran to do as he was told, and Kirkland began to climb the steps. He couldn't help but smile now. He may have lost an entire crew in just a matter of minutes, but as Renheart had said; he was _still_ a Captain. He just had a one man crew and a different mission now. He was going to be in the resistance.

He made it to his room quickly, and sat down on the bed. What was he supposed to do here while the Frog traipsed about outside like the fool he was? He pulled out the card to study it, and ended up staring. It was blank again. … Apparently his men had been right.

Strange as it seemed, he was already waxing nostalgic about his crew. He chuckled dryly as he thought of how good a Captain Greenland would make. The man seemed born to it. Most of his crew had seemed born to be where they were. The best part was that they were as loyal as he when it came to England. _Their_ England.

An hour and a half ticked by with Kirkland just sitting and thinking. He was bored out of his mind, and then a soft knock came at the door, "Who is it?"

"It's Mrs. Marsby, sir, the Innkeeper's wife."

"Why are you here?"

"Your lad told us a bi' about yer predicament, so I came wiv lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"I also came wiv darning needles an' yarn."

"What?!" Kirkland opened the door then, discovering a the woman as promised, laden with a tray that was just brimming with things. There was some food, but there was some paper and a pen with ink, there were knitting needles and a basket of yarn along with other sewing things.

"I brogh' along me embroidery kit, jus' in case ye don' like knitting." She set the tray down on the desk, removing all of the sewing supplies, leaving only food on the tray.

"I- … don't knit." He spoke sullenly, not sure whether to laugh or cry at what the woman was offering him. He was bored, but he wasn't _that_ bored.

"Oh, everyone can do it!" She smiled as she pulled out a rolled piece of parchment, "I wrote the instructions down 'ere. They're straig'forward enough, so ye'll keep yourself occupied jes' fine." She picked up the tray again, getting halfway out the door before enquiring, "Are ye sure ye don' wan' lunch?"

"Oh, quite certain." He assured her, still staring at the things she'd left.

"Then would ye like tea?"

"You have tea?!" His attention immediately went to her.

"Oh, we ran out a month ago, but with the money you gave me yesterday, I was able ta trade wiv da merchant before 'e lef'."

"Then yes, … I suppose I _will_ have some tea." Kirkland was never one to turn down the beverage.

"I'll 'ave i' righ' up." She bustled quickly out, closing the door behind her. That left Captain Kirkland; a notorious pirate, staring at a pile of sewing supplies.

Bless the woman. Her heart was in the right place, but she ought to have known better.

At first, he tried drawing. He tried writing. But just as he ran out of paper and patience, the distinct sound of French filtered up through the floor. Well. They were here.

Renheart arrived with his tea not too long afterwards, and gave him the report. The French had apparently taken a spanish ship, along with all the wealth on board soon after they'd defeated the _Godspeed_. That was intriguing, since the Spanish ships tended to travel in threes to be safer. It didn't matter though. Kirkland wasn't happy to hear it, but now Frog and his crew had come here to celebrate, laughing because they had seen the hasty retreat of the _Godspeed_ as they had come in.

"It's fortunate that you were in my cabin for that battle." Kirkland nodded at James as he finished his tea, "Now they can't recognise you."

"You're the one who ordered me there, sir." The lad took his cup from him and returned to the hectic gathering downstairs. Kirkland silently hoped that the boy would remain inconspicuous. Meanwhile, he had nothing to do. Or really, nothing he _wanted_ to do ...

And that was how, a couple of hours later, Renheart walked in with his dinner to find him embroidering a rose.

"Sir?" The lad looked shocked, and Kirkland felt his face grow red until the boy went on, "You can do _everything_!"

Well, that was hero-worship for you.

He finished his dinner and went back to knitting a pair of socks (now that he'd gotten the hang of it, he found it quite calming. He'd never admit that to anyone else though). In fact, it was the third pair he'd be knitting. He'd already used up all of the embroidery thread, and he was swiftly running out of yarn.

The frog party downstairs was becoming steadily louder and louder as the night progressed. Kirkland personally wondered if the the Inn had wine, or if the frenchmen had brought their own. Honestly, the latter was more plausible, especially if they'd just successfully raided a spanish ship. Yet, he couldn't help but think that even if they hadn't, they'd still have wine. It was just the way of the French (and it disgusted him).

It was a sad moment when he ran out of yarn and was forced to lie down and attempt sleep.

Needless to say, it was impossible.

The party was too loud, and his mind was restless; not to mention the weird dreams that he'd been having lately. He faintly wondered if they had any meaning, as they didn't seem to have anything in common other than darkness and angst. He could barely remember them anyway ...

With a sigh, he removed the slip of paper and looked at it. He'd blown out the candles, but even in the dim moon, he could see that there was another word there. He stood up quickly and moved to the window for a better look, lifting his eyepatch as he struggled to read it. His left eye honed in immediately, already in tune with the dark, reading;

 **DOWN**

Down? What on earth was that supposed to mean? Down as in … lie down? Sleep? Somehow that felt wrong though, and then another possibility popped into his head, he being on the third floor and all ...

"No!" He told the paper sternly, "No, I can't do that! I've been avoiding the Frog all day! I can't just-" But it felt right. That must have been what Greenland had meant earlier about it feeling right (He must have had trouble earlier due to his lingering headache). "But if I go down there, that stupid Frog and his whole crew will be on me in moments!" He tried to explain to the paper, but the word didn't change.

"Why?" He demanded, hoping that Alistair was out there somewhere, listening in, and would change the word to answer him. … No such luck. Now he sighed, … was there no way out of it? He tucked the paper away, thinking through his dilemma. He could go in disguise, … if he had a disguise to go in ...

Kirkland sighed, pulling on his hat and buckling up his belt. There was no way around it. He was going down.

The Englishman tried to make as little sound as possible on the stairs, but still caught the attention of a very inebriated frenchman through the open doorway, "Bon _~hic~_ jour!"

"Bonjour." He replied tersely, wondering if he could get away with just sitting on the bottom step. Nope. Not with four frenchman stumbling towards him,

"C-come joi-oin the par _~hic~_ ty!"

"Oui, oui! J'insiste!"

Kirkland, luckily unrecognised so far, was dragged into the tavern section of the Inn, immediately surrounded by loud, boisterous frenchman, slurring excitedly in their own tongue. He felt that he was going to be sick soon if this kept up. He'd thought his headache had left, but it's amazing what a frenchman could do to ruin what he thought.

For a while, he managed to get away with being silent. No one was questioning him really, even though they all ought to recognise him. For a few elated moments, he thought he'd get away with it. Then Renheart ruined it. The lad was sitting at the table closest to the kitchen, right next to Bonnefoy, who seemed very invested in a conversation they were having.

Bonnefoy, sadly, didn't seem as far gone as his men were, and his coy smile spoke of torture for poor Renheart, who looked immensely uncomfortable. Kirkland was moving before he'd really even thought it through, and that was a rare thing for him. But damned if he was going to sit by and watch that frog bother his crewmate. Perhaps that was why the card had told him to come.

He sat down across from Bonnefoy with a sigh, and tried to act as nonchalant as he could. Naturally since it was Bonnefoy, he ended up just insulting the man immediately. It was reflex, "Are you done annoying him, or have I come at a bad time?"

"Angleterre!" Bonnefoy looked alarmed, his usually merry blue eyes wide, "Why are you 'ere?! Why aren't you on your ship?"

"Non of your business, twat." He responded caustically, avoiding James' questioning look. Bonnefoy frowned a little then,

"Why must you always bite when I only seek simple answers?"

"Because it's none of your business!"

"Oh, Angleterre …" Bonnefoy's expression suddenly filled with pity, "You 'ave been marooned?"

"What?" Kirkland was genuinely surprised by the question, "No, haven't been marooned! That would be if they left me on a deserted island!"

"So they left you in a port!" The Frenchman waved a careless hand, "They still left you in the end, mon ami."

"I'm not your friend, Frogface!"

Captain Bonnefoy sighed then, long-suffering and deep, "I suppose you'll want to fight then?"

"I'm going to be the one that kills you Bonnefoy, just not right now." Kirkland glanced around that the dancing, singing frenchmen.

"Ah, zhen you 'ave at least a small amount of tact. Angleterre, you 'ave no idea 'ow 'appy zhat makes me …"

"I'm not trying to make you bloody happy, you twat! i'm trying to save my man from you."

"Save-"

"Captain!" Renheart looked flabbergasted that he'd been given away, yet now that it was official, he had no qualms with scooting his chair closer to Kirkland.

"Ah, but of course. A young mind so bright that does not want to join my crew, 'ad to 'ave already been taken!" Bonnefoy shrugged, taking a sip of his wine as a whole line of his dancing men fell off one of the tables.

"Do you have _any_ bright minds in your crew?" Kirkland looked distastefully at one of the inebriated men on the floor.

"Mais oui! 'ow else do you think that I managed to take that imbecile spaniard's ship?"

"Dumb luck." Kirkland deadpanned, then leaned in a little with curiosity, "How did you manage to take it?"

"It was all alone, mon ami! Zhe crew was below, sick with zhe flu, which was very fortunate for us!"

"Like I said, dumb luck." Something felt off, so Kirkland asked, "What sort of goods did you steal?"

"So much gold and silver, mon ami!" The frenchman chuckled, "I even got zhis beautiful ring-" He held out his hand for the Englishman to take a look. It was an intricate silver rose with a ruby inset that wrapped around Bonnefoy's finger. It was much more than that, though. Kirkland knew.

He knew so suddenly that he stood up, "That jewel is cursed."

"Really, Angleterre? You cannot even appreciate art?" Bonnefoy's voice was tinged with disappointment, "I know zhat we 'ave our differences, but-"

"No, you idiot! It's literally cursed!"

"Quoi?!" Now Bonnefoy stood as well, taking off the ring to look at it better. Renheart stood with them.

"I'm magic, you dolt! I can just feel it! That ring is a tracker, and I'd wager a bet that all the gold you got from that spanish ship is the same! It _was_ all too easy! It was a trap!"

"Oh non …" Bonnefoy turned to his completely wasted fellows, "Silencieux!" Only half of his men quieted, and Kirkland was privately very glad that he'd never let his own men get this far into a drink. "Nous avons été trompés! It was a trap! Go back to the ship at once and throw off all of the gold!"

The frenchmen merely blinked lethargically, one of them fell over.

"It's too late to take action now, Frog!" Kirkland looked into the despair-filled eyes of Bonnefoy, and (he couldn't believe himself sometimes) took pity, "Innkeeper!"

"Yes sir!" The man was there at once, causing Bonnefoy's eyebrow to raise in a question that Kirkland ignored,

"Get me parchment and a pen with ink at once!"

"Right away, sir!"

"Mrs. Marsby!" He shouted, and the woman was there,

"Wot?!"

"Do you have a cellar?"

"Yessir, bu'"

"I want you to take these men; all of them, and hide them there until they're sober again. Remove any jewelry they may have and bring it to me." She didn't even question it, only asking,

"Wot will I do after that?"

"I'll have a letter for you to give to their leader. By then, they'll be able to tell you which one he is." Kirkland looked with disgust at the man who had been lying on the floor, drooling next to his foot for most of his time with the Frog.

"Angleterre …?"

"'ere's the parchment as requested, sir!"

"Good! Now help your wife! You help too, James."

"Yes, sir!"

"Now, Frog, I'm going to dictate the letter, and you write it in that ridiculous language. Understood?"

"'oo is it addressed to?" Bonnefoy, to his credit, didn't ask anything more,

"Uh …" Kirkland racked his brain for a moment before beginning, "Dear 'whatever your First Mate's name is' … uh, I Captain Francis Bonnefoy hereby relinquish my captaincy to you-"

"Angleterre-"

"Just write it!" Kirkland snapped, "The crew is yours to command, along with the _C'est Manifique_. I discovered too late last night that our capture of the spanish gold was pre-planned to snare us, and we fell right into the trap-"

"'ow were we supposed to kno-"

"Bonnefoy, do you want to save your crew or not?!" Said crew was slowly being emptied out of the room as the Englishman continued once more, "I must stay so that they find something for their trouble-"

"Angleterre!"

"Shut up you twat, I'm staying with you! Now keep writing!" Kirkland took a breath and went on, "but there is no reason for the rest of you to perish (don't cringe, it's just a word, it might not happen) with me. Now, I want you to assemble yourselves into a group of fighting men, and I know you can do it (I know it sounds silly, but just write it!). Go to the ship. By this time, the English Queensmen will have taken it. Wait for them to finish taking all of the gold, and then steal back _C'est Manifique_ as soon as possible. For our France. May luck and God favor you, your Captain- and sign it."

"Are you certain this will work?" Bonnefoy folded the paper, his eyes filled with the question.

"Do you have a better idea?" Kirkland growled, and before Bonnefoy could answer, Renheart, and Mr. and Mrs. Marsby appeared with tubs of jewelry. "Good!" Kirkland snatched the letter and handed it to the woman before picking up one of the tubs himself and nodding at the other one for Bonnefoy. "We probably won't be back, but if we ever are, I'll be sure to stop by here again." He gave a stiff half bow, and Bonnefoy just ignored his tub, grabbing her hand and kissing it,

"Cherie, your 'usband is a very lucky man."

Ugh, Kirkland hated that laugh, "Hurry up, unless you want to be caught here?!"

"I am coming, I am coming!" Bonnefoy sighed, muttering something in French as he picked up his own tub of cursed jewels.

The three of them made quick time to the docks, with Kirkland in the lead, and Bonnefoy in the back. Renheart was between them, and Kirkland was silently thankful for his help.

"Why are you 'elping me, Angleterre?" Bonnefoy asked from his place in the rear.

"Because no one deserves to die when they're that drunk!" Kirkland snapped, his face reddening. He didn't care about the frenchmen. He just … didn't want to see Mrs. Marsby and her husband get caught up in this. Er … something like that.

"Ah, mais oui." Captain Bonnefoy spoke far too knowingly for Kirkland to be comfortable (not that he was ever comfortable around that frog).

They walked up onto the ship quickly, and Kirkland couldn't help but notice how empty it was. No one was watching it? He glanced sidelong at Bonnefoy, who was detangling his hair with his fingers as he looked forlornly about his own ship. The man had been too confident, and now it was going to be his downfall.

"Now what?" Renheart asked, having just been following orders thus far.

"Now you leave us to get captured." Kirkland leveled the boy with a look, only to have the lad flare up as he realized what his Captain meant,

"No! I'm not leaving you, sir!"

"That's an order Renheart."

"Then I-I'm disobeying it!" The lad seemed nervous as he said it, and rightly so, causing Kirkland's eyes to narrow and his voice to drop dangerously low,

"What?"

"Didn't you hear him?" A new voice entirely joined in on the conversation and a thin, pale man walked up the gangplank, coming to stand before them. The man was English, and he was a very obvious Queensman, dressed in fine silk and velvet with an intricate blunderbuss in his hand, "He's disobeying you, and rightly so. You're scum. You shouldn't have power over anyone if you can't even control yourself …" The man smiled thinly, and Kirkland felt himself getting ruffled, and prepared to shout back, only to be stopped by Bonnefoy's infuriatingly calm voice,

"Zhey only sent one man?"

"It's more than enough, since it's me." The man sighed as he looked at them, as though they were three truly troublesome children that he had to discipline, "I'm Farley. Perhaps you've heard of me."

"No, sorry." Kirkland bit out spitefully, "But you've heard of _both_ of us."

"Indeed. The Great Captain Arthur Kirkland and the Fair Captain Francis Bonnefoy … I thought you were rivals …?"

"A common enemy was all we ever needed." Bonnefoy admitted with a shrug.

"And you'd fight without your crews?"

"They don't need to get mixed up in this." Kirkland's voice was scalding. He'd already decided that he hated this man.

"While I beg to differ, seeing as they got mixed up with you in the first place, I think you missed one." Farley pointed his blunderbuss and shot it, the deafening crack that followed almost drowning out the cry of pain that came from Renheart.

"JAMES!" Kirkland immediately got down on one knee to check and see if- … it was too late. The lad was dead. He hadn't even stood a chance. Kirkland closed the boy's eyes and stood slowly, even as the blood began to pool. He tried to keep his voice from shaking as he declared, "I am going to _kill_ you, … and it won't be fast."

"Oh, really?" The man grating on Kirkland, who at this point was ready to charge, he opened his mouth to answer, but Bonnefoy spoke before he could, his voice filled with horror,

"You just killed a boy!" The frog drew his sword as he stared Farley down.

"Yes. But it was his fault. If only he'd stayed away from Kirkland …" The man clicked his tongue in sorrow.

"If I were you, _I_ would stay away from Monsieur Kirkland for a while. _And_ I would stay away from me."

"Well, good thing you're not me then." Farley smirked, "It's really too bad that I'm supposed to take you alive."

"Ready?" Kirkland looked at Bonnefoy, ignoring the boy at his feet.

"Oui."

"Right." They both stared at each other for a long moment, and then charged together. And that's the last thing Kirkland remembered before Farley laughed and waved his hand, plunging him into darkness.

* * *

 **Whoa, dark chapter. Sorry. Also a long chapter. Sorry again. Dang, this is hectic. I just shoved a lot in there huh. … Hmm, I don't like how this one turned out at all.**

 **This was a hard chapter to write for me. I kinda just wanna get to where the epic stuff happens, but apparently you're supposed to build up to that (ridiculous).**

 **Anyway, thanks to those who are following and reviewing! It really means a lot, and It's basically what's keeping me going! (seriously, it took til' 3:30 to finish this, and I ain't talkin' about the PM. actually, that's probably why the fic got all wiggy and weird at the end. I can barely stand to look at my screen!)**

 **Okay, bye everyone! I'm going to bed! I'll write more soon!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Here's the next one! Sorry it took me so long this time, I went on an adventure, jumped out of a tree, and I may or may not have broken my foot when I landed on the wet grass. :( (I didn't cry though. I sat down and then decided that because things that are named treat you better, I ought to have named my foot. So I named it Harry, after the boy who lived.) Moral of the story; the Hobbit was right! Don't go on adventures, or you'll soon regret them and have lame stories to tell as to why your foot is shaped like a blimp. :/**

 **Well, at least I can write pain more easily now.**

 **Anyway, for those of you who are really looking forward to some other characters, I promise, they're on the way. Next chapter, we'll get to meet some new people. (Yay!)**

 **Okay, I own nothing, and you can read it now! :)**

* * *

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

 _"How can you say that?!" A voice shouted angrily, "We ah brothers!"_

 _"No, we aren't."_

 _"I raised you, aru!"_

 _"You were there. Yet you did not raise me."_

 _"Aru-"_

 _"That is not what we are here to talk about."_

 _"True, but-"_

 _"Have you finished it on your side?"_

 _"Sh_ í, _have you?"_

 _"Hai."_

 _"Wonderful,_ _aru! We can talk face to face-"_

 _"We need a way to get this to other zones."_

 _"You know our magic does no work like that!"_

 _"Then we need more contacts …"_

 _"I am all alone heah, bu I will see wha I can do."_

 _"Don't you stirr have contact with-"_

 _"He disappeared, aru. I have not seen him in … long time."_

 _"Is anyone suspicious of you yet?"_

 _"No, no not yet. They don't suspect you?"_

 _"Not yet." There was a sigh, "I wirr search for a way to Jump …"_

 _"When can we meet, aru? It has been a long time since I have seen you in person. We can plan together, just like before-"_

 _"I wirr contact you when the time comes. In the meantime, you must search for herp."_

 _"You want me to find-"_

 _"He is the onry one that we know of who can Jump. If we can find him again, we wirr be abre to spread out."_

 _"I will search for him, aru."_

 _"Terr me as soon as you find anyone who can herp."_

 _"I will, but when can we meet-"_

 _"I have to go."_

 _There was a fizzling sound, and then a moment of silence._

 _"Aru! He is so ungratefu!"_

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

"Angleterre, … Angleterre, wake up."

"Ugh-" Kirkland growled at the voice and the incessant shaking that accompanied it, "Wha-" He opened his eyes, only to find Bonnefoy's mere inches away, and he backed up swiftly, hitting his head on a metal bar in his haste. The dream disappeared as he cried out in surprise and pain, "Ah!"

"You were asleep for a long time, mon ami."

"This has to be a bad dream-" Kirkland cut himself off as he took in his surroundings. He and Bonnefoy were both in a carriage. A caged wagon, actually, and the countryside was slipping past through the rusted bars. Well, that certainly explained the shaking. He tried to sit up then, but found that it was difficult, his hands being trussed tightly behind his back. Bonnefoy's look was sympathetic.

"I wish it were a dream, mon ami."

"I'm not your friend!" Kirkland hissed, pulling himself up until his back was against the bars. He was only wearing his shirt, his breeches and his boots. Everything else had been taken, "Now, how long was I asleep for?"

"I woke up when they threw us in here …" Bonnefoy glanced towards the front of the carriage, but a sheet of wood was between them and the driver, "It 'as been at least two hours since then." The frenchman was tied as well, his things also missing.

"And that _tosser_ Farley?" Kirkland was beginning to recall everything that had happened, and Renheart was one of the first things he remembered.

"'e is not our driver, if zhat is what your are wondering. 'e is in a carriage in front of ours."

"Travelling in style, no doubt." Kirkland swore quietly, "We need to get out of here before we're hanged."

"From what I understood, we are being taken to your Queen first-"

"She's _not_ my Queen!" Kirkland lurched to his feet to better tower over his cellmate, "And as soon as I show my face and tell her that, she's going to hang us!"

"Us?" Bonnefoy got up now as well, "Angleterre, perhaps you 'ave forgotten, but I am not English at all! She is more likely to send me back to that impostor on _my_ beloved King's throne!"

"And then _he'll_ hang you." Kirkland had calmed down a little now, sagging against the bars, "We need to escape somehow."

"Oui. But …" The frenchman had somehow managed to get his bound hands in front of him, "I do not want to ruin my teeth chewing my way to freedom …"

"You think I do?" The Englishman sat down and began the feat of pulling his feet up far enough to get his own hands in front of him.

"Well, it's not as though your teeth- Ouch!" Bonnefoy crouched to rub his shin,

"You know you deserved that."

"I _should_ 'ave killed you when I 'ad zhe chance." Muttered french flowed from Bonnefoy as memories of Renheart plagued Kirkland. He hated Farley worse than he hated Queen Jane. He got to work, chewing methodically, yet all the Englishman could think about was the dead boy. He hadn't even done anything wrong, James hadn't killed anyone, or even hurt anyone, for that matter. Kirkland bit viciously as he thought about how caring the lad had been; making certain that he was all right.

" _They_ should have killed us when they had the chance." Kirkland finally spoke curtly, loosening his bonds to the point where he could finish the job with his hands. "Now, we need to esca-" He cut himself off when he saw that Bonnefoy hadn't done anything, and the frenchman seemed oblivious however as he proffered his tied hands expectantly,

"Angleterre, would you be so kind?"

"You twat! You didn't even try?!"

"I did, but it 'urt my teeth- Oomph!" Bonnefoy grunted when he was shoved into the wall of the cage, rattling it.

"We don't have time for you to be a _girl_ about this, you bloody idiot!" Kirkland grabbed Bonnefoy by the wrists and began on his ropes. A moment later they were undone and the frenchman stood, that infuriating smirk back again,

"Merci, Angleterre."

"Don't thank me, git, help me pick this lock!" Kirkland cursed loudly when he couldn't get it open.

"I don't 'ave anything with me to pick it with …" Bonnefoy patted his pockets before shrugging.

"I don't either-" Kirkland rifled through his own pockets before pulling out Alistair's card with surprise, having forgotten its very existence.

"Un morceau de papier?" Bonnefoy took it from him, "What is this for?"

"None of your business!" Kirkland tried to snatch it back, but the frenchman jerked it out of his reach, squinting at it,

"Why does it say 'stay'?"

"What?!" Kirkland got it on the second try, holding it up to his face in disbelief, "What do you mean, stay?!" Sure enough, there it was, all in bold;

 **STAY**

"Does that mean something?" Bonnefoy looked confused, and rightly so, while Kirkland looked up at the sky in anger,

"What do you _mean_ , stay?! I'm going to be hanged, you stupid Scot! You want me to follow James?! That's what happened the last time you said stay! You think I'm going to bloody well believe _you_ again! You were ruddy DRUNK!" He rattled the bars of the cage in anger, dropping the card, no longer caring where it ended up, "Why the HELL should I listen to YOU?! Because of you, I lost my crew, and James lost his life!"

"Angleterre!" Bonnefoy sounded alarmed, "Êtes-vous fou?!"

"Shut up, _Frog_!" Kirkland spat in his anger, still intent on the Scotsman that wasn't present, "When are you going to actually come help me?! Damn you and your last token! I should have just gone with my men!"

"Who are you talking to, mon ami …?" Bonnefoy asked it nervously, and rightfully so, since the Englishman was in the mood to kill someone.

"I'm talking to Alistair, bloody _fool_ I am … trusting a drunk man who claims he can get my England back …" Kirkland sank slowly to his knees as he said it, leaning against the cage wall, "All I want is- … is to get _home_."

"Oh, Angleterre …" Bonnefoy sat down next to him, and Kirkland didn't even have the will to tell him to sod off anymore, "Je suis désolé … We all want to go home …"

"I'm sure her _H_ _ighness_ Jane doesn't feel the pressing need to return home." Kirkland looked up at his rival with tired eyes, "I _do_."

"Oui. Me too."

"You never cared before now." Kirkland turned his head away, not liking the frenchman agreeing with him.

"I did." Bonnefoy shifted, as though uncomfortable, "But you did not seem to care to notice. You were too busy reminding everyone of what England really was … it is why I call you Angleterre. If anyone deserves to get back, it's you."

"I never meant to belittle-"

"Yes you did, Angleterre," Bonnefoy chuckled, "But I can understand. You love your homeland, just as I miss La belle France, et mon petit Joan …"

"You left someone behind?" Kirkland asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

"Oui. Joan." Bonnefoy closed his eyes in remembrance, "et tu?"

"I loved Elizabeth … but I'll never see her again, so … it doesn't matter."

" _That_ is the problem." Bonnefoy stood, "It will always matter. And that is why we must escape, so you can find this Alistair and your way back to Angleterre. La _vraie_ Angleterre." The frenchman gripped the bars and looked out over the countryside, "Speaking of Angleterre, you should see this."

"See what?" Kirkland turned around to look out, and saw what Bonnefoy meant. The sprawling countryside was swiftly becoming farmland, which meant that they were close to the capitol.

"If we want to escape, now is the time." Bonnefoy began testing the bars, shaking them methodically.

"Right." The Englishman got to his feet, beginning to shake the bars himself.

By the time they'd checked the whole cage, the road was cobblestone, which was a bad sign. They began truly shaking the cage now, attempting to get _something_ to pull loose. "It is no use." Bonnefoy leaned against the wooden side dramatically, "We are flies, and we are caught in the honey …"

"No!" Kirkland snarled, pulling against the bars futilely as they neared what he knew to be New London, according to the sign they'd passed a while back, "There has to be something! Some way out! Try the top!"

"I think we should stop trying," Bonnefoy climbed up to try anyway, "We must not look desperate as we travel past the people who 'ave been caught in this false world with us. We should look confident, to give them 'ope."

"Stop trying to romanticise our predicament, git! Just try to get us out of here!"

"I _am_ trying!" Bonnefoy's patience was apparently finally running thin, since he spoke more sharply than Kirkland had ever heard him before, "Perhaps if you actually helped, instead of ordering me around-"

"Oh, sod off! I'm trying to get you to actually _do_ something useful, you wine-guzzling fop!"

"Oh, I am the fop?!"

"Just what are you implying-?!"

The argument grew steadily louder as they passed into the city. People they passed stared at them in surprise and a little fear, since at this point, they'd each abandoned the bars and were tussling with each other. Elbows found their way to stomachs and chins, while fists slammed into shoulders and faces as they scrabbled; all of their desperate energy no longer being expended on getting free, but getting _even._

"Oh, and it always comes back to my eyebrows-!"

"Vous êtes un imbécile!"

"Speak in a respectable language, _Frog_!"

" _This_ is respectable-?!"

They fought all the way through the center of the city, right into the castle grounds, people gawking the entire way. Their fight was the only thing that mattered anymore as they ignored where they were entirely By the time the carriage stopped, Kirkland had a black eye (and with the other eye sporting a patch, he was sure he was a sight to behold), and Bonnefoy had a bleeding lip and nose.

"I couldn't have asked for a better condition to take you to the Queen in." They both whipped their heads towards Farley, who walked up nonchalantly with the key, "I'm not allowed to harm you, so you harm each other? I should thank you."

"Sod _off._ " Kirkland growled while Bonnefoy wiped his face and ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it.

"Oh, I do love your spirit, Kirkland. But you'll soon know better." Farley chuckled dryly, and for once, Kirkland found himself missing the frenchman's laugh. He wasn't going to let Farley get away with everything he'd done ... The man stepped forward and unlocked the door, stepping back to let them out. Bonnefoy started forward, but Kirkland felt that something was … off. He wasn't sure what, but it was just … wrong. He began to look around, hoping something would give itself away … that's when he saw it; Alistair's token.

The small, now dirty, card on the floor of the cage **,** it's message still in clear, bold letters;

 **STAY**

"No!" Kirkland grabbed Bonnefoy's arm before he could walk out of the cage.

"Quoi?!"

"We're not going out there." Kirkland stooped, picking up the small card, feeling that he was right.

"What are you doing, Angleterre?!"

"I-"

"You have to come out." Farley seemed annoyed, and it was the first time Kirkland had seen him as anything but smug. Bonnefoy must have felt the same, because for him, explanations were no longer needed, his need to annoy people saving Kirkland from having to justify anything.

"Non. You 'ave to come in."

"Come out." Farley's face twisted at Bonnefoy's superior expression.

"Make us!" Kirkland stifled a grin, and watched Farley stew in anger for a while, then,

"Fine." The man stepped forward, and the two prisoners watched with fascination as he whispered something to the open door. A force-field flickered into focus, powerful and grey-blue. Then, with a wave of his hand, the man dissipated it. "Now come."

Well, that certainly explained why the token had said stay, "If we had walked through that …" Kirkland muttered in soft horror.

"You were going to let us walk through that and die?!" Bonnefoy's voice became shrill and taught with anger as he began speaking rapid-fire french. Kirkland just checked the card. It was blank.

Alistair had saved Bonnefoy's life.

Kirkland was amazed that Farley would do that, but then he remembered that the man wasn't supposed to hurt or kill them. He must have put that up with the intention to kill them 'accidentally'. So far, the man's only weakness was the Queen, so Kirkland decided it was high time the prat was put in his place. "Let's go tell the Queen." He grabbed Bonnefoy's arm and stepped through the now safe doorway.

"I wouldn't, if I were you. She's already angry enough at you without you incriminating one of her best men." Farley spoke tightly, and neither Kirkland nor Bonnefoy missed it. They both looked at each other, content to wait till they were before the Queen herself before they tattled.

While they had no actual escort, there were guards everywhere, and they both knew what Farley was capable of. They were led through silent halls, tapestries and colored-glass windows adorning almost every wall. In fact, it seemed like ages before they finally made it to the courtroom itself. It was long, with a red carpet leading all the way up to the throne, where Queen Jane sat.

She was dimpled and small, her double chin drooping with disapproval as the two prisoners were led forward. Next to her, there was a tall thin man with a light scruff of beard, a crown on his head like her own, making Bonnefoy gasp softly, " _Impostor_." So. He must have been the French King.

"Your Royal Highnesses, I have brought the two pirates that were captured due to your brilliant trap. They both deserve whatever you're will-" Farley stopped groveling when Jane waved her hand. Kirkland stifled a smile at the man's dismissal.

"You know why you have been brought before Us. What do you have to say for yourself, Captain Kirkland?"

"I am a pirate." Kirkland's hands had as of yet been clasped behind him, but now he removed them, palms facing out to show he had no weapons, "I kill and pillage and I know what I deserve."

"Why are the prisoners hands not tied?" The King asked in alarm while the Queen stared Kirkland down.

"They managed to get free, my liege." Farley bowed again. His subservience was beginning to grate on Kirkland (not that the man himself didn't do that well enough).

"Then you _want_ to die?" The Queen didn't seem to care about his hands, "You will not even defend yourself?"

"Forgive me, but I refuse to grovel before a Queen that is not mine." Kirkland replied. The King gasped and Farley went to slap him, but was stopped by the Queen,

"Halt! You will not touch him! You remember the orders We gave!"

"Yes, my Queen." Farley backed off, groveling once more.

"You are still loyal to the England of old?" She asked.

"Yes." Kirkland nodded.

"You realize that if you do not renounce it, We will be forced to-"

"I would rather die than renounce my home."

"Oui. I am with 'im." Bonnefoy chose that moment to interject, and the King became angry,

"You ingrates! This is treason to the crown!"

"Not the real crown." Kirkland pointed out.

"We are true citizens. I refuse to feel for any country that is not mon belle France."

"You sign your own death warrant." The Queen seemed annoyed, but Kirkland could also sense a little guilt.

"With all due respect, I believe that you are a Queen. You just aren't mine." That was as much as Kirkland was willing to lie.

"Oui." Bonnefoy agreed again.

"You cannot speak to your Queen that way!" Farley was angry enough that he was spitting a little, "She _is_ your Queen!"

"Farley, stand down." The Queen sighed, "You realize We can't pardon you for all of your evil deeds _and_ treason, yes?"

"I understand." Kirkland nodded respectfully, while Bonnefoy spoke up,

"Before you kill us … isn't disobeying a direct order from zhe Queen or King treason?" Kirkland stopped listening as he felt the small slip of paper in his pocket. He'd never get to see his England again, despite how close he was. Just as his faith in Alistair had been restored, he was to be executed.

"Farley, is this true?!" Kirkland began listening again as Farley's attempted murder was discovered. He couldn't help but smirk at the man's plight. All that magic, and he still had to defer to the Queen.

"Your Majesty-" Farley began to grovel again as he attempted to excuse himself. Kirkland absentmindedly pulled out the token, only to double take. There was another word on it;

 **BRIBE**

Was it serious?

Kirkland shoved it back in his pocket before anyone could read it, thinking about how to follow through on the command. A couple of ideas came to mind before he felt the one that was … right.

"Farley, your position in court is hereby revoked. Report back to Sir Dunstan immediately."

"At once, your Majesty." Farley left the room with a sour look, and after turning his chuckle into a cough, Kirkland made his move, "Your Majesty?"

"Yes Kirkland?"

"I have a suggestion."

"A suggestion?"

"Yes. A way to be pardoned and my word that I'll not be a pirate any more."

"Oui." Bonnefoy was mooching again, but Kirkland couldn't really do anything about it.

"I'm a wealthy man-"

"Not through honest means." The Queen reminded him.

"No. Not through honest means." Kirkland nodded, "Though I have quite a large amount of treasure hidden away. If I directed you to the place, would you be willing to let me go?"

"Are you bribing me, Kirkland?" Queen Jane's eyes hardened.

"No, Your Majesty. I'm offering you money in exchange for a pardon."

"I am as well." Bonnefoy said.

"How much?" The King stepped forward now, his curiosity piqued.

"At least as much as what's in your treasury." Kirkland responded (and it was true, he'd really milked the spaniards for all they were worth). This bit of news made both of the royals' eyes pop. Then they seemed to think it over.

"If I agree to this, you'll not pirate any more?"

"Captain Kirkland will be gone forever." He promised.

"As will Captain Bonnefoy." The frog was quick to add.

"Well …" The Queen seemed hesitant, then finally spoke, "Agreed. Will there be anything else that you need before disappearing?"

"Our things back." Bonnefoy said instantly.

"Yes." Kirkland seconded.

"Very well." The Queen clapped her dimpled hands loudly, causing two guards to come in, "Bring the Captains their things, and bring the world map with an inkwell and a pen."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Both of the guards turned and left, the large doors swinging closed behind them. There was a long moment of awkward silence, and Kirkland used it to check the token. There was a different word on it now;

 **LIBRARY**

What library? The one in the castle? That felt right, but he wondered how he'd get in? How would he even find it? He didn't have the chance to try anything before the doors swung open again, revealing a guard with a large rolled up map and an inkwell.

"Put it on the floor, then let Kirkland mark it." The Queen ordered.

"Yes, my Queen."

The map was spread out and Kirkland was handed a feather pen. He dipped it in the ink, then knelt to mark England right along the edge, writing small instructions next to it;

 _Ishington,_

 _200 mi E._

 _Rocky Cove_

 _Small sand circle_

 _Dig_

"There." He announced as he stood, "You should be able to find it quite easily." It was a small price to pay. Bonnefoy honestly must have felt the same, because he was next,

"My turn!" The frog cheerfully took the pen from him, bending to mark the coast of France, writing his own small instructions next to it. He stood up with the pen again, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

"You swear that you are telling the truth?" The King asked.

"I swear." Kirkland nodded.

"Oui. I would not lie to you _now_." The Frenchman's smile only grew as the other guard walked in. He held Kirkland's hat, coat, and belt. He also held Bonnefoy's belt, and both of the former pirates accepted the things eagerly.

Kirkland pulled it all on until he was neat and orderly. Bonnefoy put his belt at an angle on his hips, as though he hadn't a care for his appearance. Kirkland hated that he looked fashionable even with the blood on his face.

"You are pardoned, free to go." The Queen stood to accept the map personally, and then speared them with a look, "I don't need to tell you what happens if you lied?"

"No." Kirkland bowed, taking off his hat (even though he had to hide his scowl) and Bonnefoy followed suit,

"Your grace and beauty almost make me sad that you are not my Queen." King Bernard's expression soured.

Okay, _that_ was going too far.

They were dismissed, and yet neither of them truly relaxed until the doors closed loudly behind them. Then both of the Captains let out a sigh. They looked at each other in surprise, with Bonnefoy smiling and Kirkland scowling,

"Angleterre, you're brilliant! You saved me twice!"

" _I'm_ going to be the one that kills you, Bonnefoy." Kirkland reminded him huffily. Then he began to stalk down the hall, trying to stifle his smile.

"Where are you going?" Bonnefoy followed him, oh would he ever be rid of the man?!

"To the library." Kirkland growled, "Now why are you following me?"

"What is so funny?" Bonnefoy didn't even seem to care that he was going to the library.

"Do I look like I'm laughing?"

"You did just a moment ago."

"Well, I wasn't."

"Angleterre-"

"If I tell you what was so funny, will you leave me alone?!"

"What was so funny?"

"It's just-" Kirkland had to force back another smile, "I only pointed them towards _one_ of my gold stashes, and it wasn't even the biggest-"

"You too?!" Francis Bonnefoy's annoying laugh was suddenly loud and clear, right in front of him, "I did the same!"

"You- … what?"

"I did the same thing, Angleterre! We are _both_ terrible men!"

"Yes," Kirkland finally let a smug smile take its place on his lips, "I suppose we are."

"What are you planning on doing now that you will no longer be a pirate?" Bonnefoy asked. Kirkland sped up,

"I- … don't think that's any of your-"

"You are going to hunt down this 'Alistair' and find England?" Bonnefoy's look was knowing.

"I'm going to learn how to control my magic!" Kirkland huffed, speeding up again.

"And find Alistair and England."

"Well … what are _you_ going to do?" He stopped then, glaring at the persistent frog.

"I think I will try my hand at being a gentleman. 'ow does Monsieur Francois sound to you?"

"Idiotic."

"I _knew_ you'd love it."

"I thought you'd said you would leave me alone …" Kirkland looked at his rival with growing annoyance as the man seemed impossible to shake.

"I will let you be." Bonnefoy held up his hands in surrender, "Though, … Let me know if you ever plan to become a pirate again. I'll want to be on the ship across from yours to beat you whenever you forget who is best!" The frenchman left then, a smile on his face.

"I'm going to be the one that kills you, Bonnefoy!" Kirkland called back, and the last thing he heard before he was all alone was the idiot's trademark laugh. What a git.

"Now … where's the library …" Kirkland pulled out the card, strangely relieved to see that it hadn't changed since he'd last looked. He held it as he began walking, feeling that he was going the right direction. It was strange, to simultaneously know and yet have no idea where you were going. It definitely wasn't something that Kirkland was used to. He was used to being in charge. He was used to having people with him. … Well, there was no _way_ he was calling Bonnefoy back, so he continued onward.

The castle was huge. He passed guards, and they seemed to know who he was, but news must have spread that the Queen had pardoned him, because none of them stopped him. He figured he should find the library quick, before one of them reported to the Queen that Captain Arthur Kirkland was still wandering around the castle.

Half an hour later, he found it. He walked in, and was immediately attacked by dust from books that he recognised from _his_ England. Ignoring the onset of nostalgia, he walked to the middle of the huge room. Shelves and shelves of books surrounded him, and he held up the piece of paper in question. The word shimmered, and right in front of his eyes, changed.

 **TOP**

Top of what?

Kirkland sighed as he attempted again to find out what the token meant. He glanced around for help, his eye falling on the top shelf. Instantly he was moving towards the ladder, knowing now what top meant.

When he got there, he found that the large books were the dustiest ones in the whole of the room. He stifled a sneeze as he pulled the card out again, watching it change once again;

 **LEFT**

Kirkland obeyed, moving to the left as the card shimmered again;

 **RED**

There were five large red books to the left of his position. He grabbed the closest one, planning on just taking them all. He pulled it out and this time couldn't stop a sneeze at the wave of dust that flounced all over him. Kirkland distastefully tucked the thing under his arm, only to see something … something in the back. There was a sheet of paper tucked between the stones in the wall behind where the book had been. He put the book on top of the shelf to grab the slip. Then he looked at the token; it had changed again, now reading;

 **YES**

"Finally!" Kirkland felt excitement run through him at the notion that he would finally get somewhere now, using this small, well hidden slip of paper. He got to the bottom of the ladder, and unfolded the paper. There was a large word scrawled right across the top, reading,

 _Salire_

The rest of the paper was difficult to read and pronounce, and Kirkland felt his excitement fading. He looked at the token for help, and was surprised to actually see another word there,

 **SPEAK**

Speak? Did it mean … He looked at the paper, knowing that he was supposed to read it out loud. He looked back at the token, "What will that do?" He asked it, staring for a moment, then sighing, he put it in his pocket. He held the scrap that he'd discovered in front of him, taking a deep breath. Then he began to read. He stumbled through some words, he sounded some out slowly, and was forced to squint at the ones that were barely even legible.

When he finally finished it, nothing happened. He looked at the page, ready to try reading it again, when suddenly, he felt a large crippling pain run through him. He gasped, falling to his knees as the slip of paper fell from his hands. It never reached the floor though, instead crumbling into green dust that floated upwards, towards him. He was too weak to back away from the dust, and it sank into his chest, right through his shirt and coat. With it came even greater pain.

He rode out the pain, gasping for air as his hands clutched against his chest in a futile attempt to dig out the pain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he prayed that no one would walk into the library and see him. Slowly, the pain ebbed, leaving him on his knees, breathing hard. He stumbled to his feet, trying to rid his eyes of the sudden, grainy, tired feeling that had overtaken them. It didn't work. He cursed softly, pulling Alistair's token back out, in the hopes that it might tell him what to do next. It did, but he couldn't believe what it said;

 **JUMP**

"Just like that?" He asked breathily, looking around, wishing that Alistair could answer him. "I should just- … just jump?"

"Yes …" A twittery voice touched his eardrum softly, and he ended up whipping his head around in surprise (which, all said and done, was a mistake that had him scrabbling for his balance for a few seconds).

"Who's there?"

"I am …" the voice was weak, but was steadily growing stronger.

"That isn't an answer!" Kirkland was still weak, and he wasn't in the mood to play hide and seek with whatever had answered him.

"It's been so long … since anyone could see me …" The voice grew closer, and Kirkland found himself glaring at a specific patch of air, almost certain that the voice had come from there, "Your magic is truly awakening … You … can you see me?" There were was something there, filtering in and out of view, and then, it was slowly becoming solid and dark.

Kirkland stared, "A … flying … mint-coloured … bunny?"

"Yes!" The rabbit's eyes closed in ecstasy as it was identified, "I'm a spirit, and only those who are suitably inclined can see me."

"So, … if they're magic?"

"Only a certain kind. Right now, you're the only one."

"I'm the only one who can see you?"

"The only human." The bunny flew forward, and Kirkland instinctively backed away, almost tripping with fatigue, "Don't be scared. I'm like your guardian now!"

"I- … what?"

"I won't always be with you, but I'll come sometimes to help out." The bunny's laugh jingled happily as it flew around him in a circle, "It's so wonderful to be noticed!"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure it is …" Kirkland hedged, not sure what else to say. Then it came to him, "How do you know I'm supposed to Jump?"

"Some people can do it naturally, but some have to have the gift bestowed before it becomes physically possible. You bestowed it on yourself when you read the letter, and it woke up your magic too!" The bunny seemed perpetually happy.

"So, … I can jump now?"

"Yep!"

"Oh …" Kirkland leaned against a bookshelf heavily, not sure what to think. Alistair's token must have needed him to jump. He pulled it out, expecting it to say the same thing. It didn't. Now it read-

 **MID-ZONE**

"So, … I have to jump to the Mid-Zone?" He looked at the bunny, who still just seemed pleased to be noticed, "How do I do that?"

"Stand up, wave your hands, and think really hard about the Mid-Zone." Flying Mint Bunny supplied helpfully.

"Wave my hands?"

"In a circle. It helps the portal tear through the walls of the Zones."

"And … you're certain this will work?"

"It should."

"All right then." Kirkland stood straight up then began moving his hands in a circular motion, feeling idiotic almost immediately (Once again, he really hoped that this library wasn't used often). But he kept going, imagining the Mid-Zone, and what it must look like. Nothing was happening, and he slowed down, his faith and energy failing.

"No! Keep trying! Just think 'Mid-Zone!" Mint Bunny encouraged.

Kirkland closed his eyes now, his hands still moving, and then he whispered, "Mid-Zone."

Nothing happened. His eyes snapped open, and he put his left hand on his hip in annoyance, "I'm not seeing any portal, _or_ any Mid-Zone!" As he said Mid-Zone this time, he waved his right hand in a circle twice. There was a loud crack, and suddenly he felt his energy being drawn out of him. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't pleasant either. It was also tiring. It swirled into an acid green portal in front of him and Flying Mint Bunny cheered,

"You did it! That's the portal! Now quick, jump through before it closes!"

"Just jump in?! Where will I end up?" Kirkland felt himself becoming more lethargic as the portal sucked more of his energy out.

"In the Mid-Zone!" Flying Mint Bunny flew in, and after a moment of indecision, Kirkland followed. He leapt in, and felt it close behind him immediately. His world turned green, and then swiftly black.

* * *

 **I know. This chapter was weird and stilted too. … In my own defense, I am in a lot of pain.**

 **This chapter was shorter! Did anyone notice? I definitely did, and that's good, because chapters should have variety, right? Right. ;)**

 **Anyway, even though this all may have seemed a little random, buckle in, cause the next chapter is when it starts to get really good! So stay tuned! *cheesy announcer voice* :)**

 **Yup. I added Flying Mint Bunny. It was a surprise to me too, actually. Like Scotland was, and look at how important he turned out! This story is honestly just writing itself.**

 **Again, any questions you may have, just ask me and I'll let you know the answer (unless it's for spoilers, you naughty reader! I'm not giving away all of my plot twists! … not that I have that many in the first place …)**

 **Thanks to those of you who are following and have reviewed. You're the only reason I'm still writing this!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Okay, I know this is slightly later than I might have promised some of you, but it's out now, right? :)**

 **As promised, this chapter has some new characters for you to get to know! And they're not _all_ OCs (hint hint). So you can be excited to read this one, cause I was really excited to write it! It's one of those I've-been-looking-forward-to-this-chapter-cause-I-know-it's-gonna-be-hecka-good kind of chapters, so I was really looking forward to it since the beginning. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and I own mostly nothing! (Nothing exciting anyway.)**

* * *

The first thing that Kirkland became aware of was the cold. It was freezing, and it felt as though tiny pinpricks of ice were dancing across his face. The air was entirely different than he was used to, crisp; but not in the sense of the ocean on a cool morning. It was too clean, with no brine tickling his nose. Rather, it felt as though he were inhaling icicles themselves, and it was _not_ pleasant.

The second thing he realised was that he was very uncomfortable. His body was splayed unnaturally on the freezing ground, and he wondered how high up this end of the portal had been. The ground he was lying on seemed simultaneously hard and soft, but was mainly just cold, seeping into his seemingly entirely bruised extremities. It didn't help that there was something sharp jabbing into his neck, just as cold (if not colder) than everything else.

He opened his left eye slowly, and the only thing that it seemed to be able to focus on was grey. Everything was grey. The sky was light grey, while tree-branches that scraped and shifted in the wind were a darker grey. Small flurries of snowflakes flew in sweeping arcs over and around him, explaining quite a bit about his predicament, seeing as that must be what he was laying in; a snowdrift.

Kirkland groaned as he shifted away from the sharp thing in his neck, blinking lethargically. The thing just went right back into his neck, and he shifted again, pulling away as he turned his head to see what was so persistently annoying and instantly froze as his eye focused in on a thick, sharp blade. Behind it, he could see a pair of black boots and legs, but his attention was all on the sword that had just been touching his throat. His left eye followed it swiftly to the gauntlet covered hand that held it. From there, he traveled swiftly to the head. It was hidden in a helmet, the visor down against the biting wind.

A tinny voice spoke from within, almost as sharp as the weather (Kirkland had already decided that he missed the ocean and the sun), "Wakey wakey, sleepy-head!"

"Oh!" Kirkland found himself scrabbling backwards, further into his snowdrift, before he managed to stumble to his feet. He drew his sword, wincing at how cold the fancy hilt was, and pointed it at the man. He was suddenly all too aware that the Knight (for that's what the stranger was) was in full armour, shield on his back, holding a much thicker blade than his thin rapier, "Who are you?!"

A rasping, terrible hissing noise came from the helmet, and it took Kirkland almost 15 seconds to realise that it was laughter, "Zhat's what I should be asking you, you green poopy baby!"

"S-sorry?" Kirkland didn't lower his blade, merely tilting his head to the side, wondering if he'd heard right.

"I forgive you." The Knight nonchalantly stuck his long-sword into the snow, reaching down to pick up Kirkland's velvet feathered hat, "Is this what illegal magic users all wear?"

"I-"

"And are zhey _all_ green poopy babies?" The Knight put the hat on top of his sword, then his laugh hissed out again, "Don't think zhat I didn't see you fall out of zhe sky. It turned all green, and zhen it pooped you out into zhe snow! You didn't wake up, either, you slept like a baby, even though I poked you a lot."

Well, that explained what the Knight had called him (even though it really didn't)

"I am Captain Arthur Kirkland." He said it as proudly as one could with chattering teeth (never had the ocean gotten _this_ cold), "Now who might you be?"

"I am Sir Gilbert Beilschmidt, Knight of zhe Awesome."

Kirkland had his doubts on the validity of that statement, but decided to ask the more pressing question,"Why were you threatening me, Sir Beilschmidt?"

"Zhreatening you?" The Knight seemed confused, but then that creepy hiss/laugh was back, "Oh, nein, nein! I vas trying to get you to vake up! Though, technically, I should be killing you soon since you used illegal magic."

"Oh." Kirkland hesitantly lowered his blade a little, shivering involuntarily. Normally, his coat was enough for the cold, … but it was entirely inadequate here in the snow of … "Where am I?"

"Right now?" The Knight was leaning against a tree, the cold didn't seem to affect him, "You're in Germany, mein Freund."

"Germany …" Kirkland breathed, then shivered again, "Then, … I am in the Mid-Zone?"

"Ja." Beilschmidt replied, suddenly grabbing Kirkland's hat and offering it to him, "Und I vant to know how you got here."

"What?" Kirkland took the offering, pulling it down as low as it would go (and lamenting silently, since it didn't quite cover his ears).

"You Jumped."

"Well, … yes." Kirkland answered slowly, wondering why the 'Knight of the Awesome' didn't just kill him already.

"How?"

"I- …" Kirkland paused, then shrugged, "I used my magic."

" _How_?" Beilschmidt pulled his sword back out of the snow, then sheathed it in one fluid movement.

"I don't _know_ exactly how!" The Englishman finally snapped, "All I know is that this is where I wanted to end up!"

"Why?" The Knight seemed hell-bent on knowing everything, so Kirkland sighed impatiently, suppressing another shiver,

"I'm looking to join the resistance. I've just got to learn to control my magic first. Someone told me to come here-"

"Who?"

"Shut up and let me finish, you twit!"

"Okay, Green Poopy Baby, no need to scream about it!" Beilschmidt held up his hands in surrender.

"Don't call me that!" Kirkland growled. What was this Knight, two years old?

"Don't tell me to shut up, Artur." Came the immediate reply.

"Don't call me _that_ either!"

"One or zhe other, you choose." The Knight patted his sword hilt in satisfaction.

"Fine, call me Arthur." Kirkland brought a couple of frozen fingers to massage his temple, but retracted them soon after they touched his comparatively warmer face (minus his nose, ears and lips, which would soon fall off.).

"Now, tell me why you're here, _Artur_."

"I'm here to learn magic so I can overthrow the Bosses." There. Was that treasonous enough for the idiotic man?

"You're lucky you were pooped out here." Beilschmidt spoke in all seriousness, though Kirkland rolled his eyes at the idiotic term, "Magic wizout a license here is a death sentence, und if you just Jumped …" The Knight shrugged, "Zhat's against zhe law in every Zone."

"Then you're going to kill me, Beilschmidt?" Kirkland raised an eyebrow, wondering why the man hadn't done it yet. The Captain's sword _was_ still out, but at this point he was certain he didn't look very threatening.

"Nein."

"Why not?" Kirkland was actually surprised, then the Knight came closer, his voice much softer as he explained.

"Mein Vater vas in zhe resistance. Mein Mutter too. Zhey were executed vhen I vas very small." Something rang in Kirkland's memory then, telling him that he already knew this story, and he found himself finishing,

"And they took the rest of your family."

"Ja." Beilschmidt didn't even question how he knew, "Mein little Bruder. To keep me from being in zhe resistance vhen I grew up too …"

"So they're watching you?"

"Ja …" Beilschmidt nodded, "Und if I do anyzhing wrong, mein Bruder will pay zhe price."

"Looks like they've got you on a pretty tight leash then."

"Nein!" The Knight suddenly stalked away, his tone vehement and taught with anger, "I have been vaiting. I have been planning. I know vhat to do to be free, I just never had a vay to find mein Bruder before …"

"Are you saying that you're going to use _me_ to find your brother?!" Kirkland was indignant, he wasn't going to be used like some- convenient _tool_. Not if he had a say in it!

"Ja, eizher zhat, or I kill you now." Beilschmidt drew his blade again, a muffled sound against the snow, and Kirkland a sudden, scary feeling that despite the man's childishness, he could use it very well.

"But they're _watching_ you!" He tried, "If you just up and disappear, they'll take it out on your brother!"

"Ja, but I'll take care of zhat before we go." The Knight sheathed his blade again, "In zhe meantime, you have to learn how to control your magic, Poopy Baby."

"I thought-"

"Ja, ja, Artur." Beilschmidt shrugged, "I can kill you eizher way. Let's go, before zhe blizzard gets worse."

"This isn't already bad?" Kirkland muttered as he followed the Knight. Faintly, he wondered how the seemingly childish man had put himself in charge so easily. He sighed, watching his breath fog the air. It was probably because he was so cold and vulnerable. Plus he was still feeing drained from the Jump. "Where are we going?" He asked as they trudged through the snow.

"I'm taking you to a teacher. You said you needed to learn magic, Artur, didn't you?"

"Well-"

"I am taking you to someone who can teach it." They finally got to a tree that had a large black horse tied to it, and the Knight began untying it, "Get on. We have to get there before you freeze, Poopy Baby."

"I'm not-!"

"Zhen quit whining and get on Gilberta!"

"You named your horse after yourself?" Kirkland snorted as he pulled himself up.

"Ja, it's a gut, Prussian name. Everybody deserves to have it! It's awesome! Like me!" Kirkland rolled his eyes as Beilschmidt unclasped one of the saddlebags, pulling out a thin blanket. Kirkland almost took it _before_ he held it out, but managed to refrain.

"It just had to be bloody _snowing_ when I Jumped." He muttered as he wrapped the thing around himself. It was thin and worn, but it was still much better than nothing.

"You're lucky it's warm enough to snow." Beilschmidt began to lead the horse out of the forest onto an old road.

" _Warm_ enough! You're _mad_!"

"Nein, I am just from here." The Prussian's wheezy laugh was back. It was almost more annoying than Bonnefoy's, "What Zone are you from?"

"The Ex-Zone." Kirkland had often imagined leaving his home, but he'd never dreamed that he'd actually achieve it. It felt wrong to not be in his Zone, but honestly, everything had felt wrong since he'd met Alistair.

"Ooh. I hear zhat it's not as magical zhere, is zhat true?" Beilschmidt sounded genuinely curious, "Ich frage much, ob mein Bruder da ist …"

"If it weren't true I wouldn't be here to learn magic, git!" Kirkland was annoyed when people broke off into languages that he only knew snippets of. It always reminded him of Bonnefoy.

"You're alvays so angry, Poopy Baby …" Beilschmidt was just trying to get a rise out of him, but he refused to respond to that, "Are you already homesick?"

Kirkland still didn't answer. Glad that his teeth had finally stopped chattering so that he could give the Knight his _full_ inattention.

"Artur …" Beilschmidt swallowed his teasing tone for a more serious one, "You need to stay warm. You've stopped shivering."

"It's because I'm warmer." Kirkland replied, having felt better ever since he'd pulled the blanket tightly around his shaking shoulders.

"Ja … vell, try to stay avake?"

"I'm not even tired; why are you suddenly so worried?"

Beilschmidt didn't respond, asking a question of his own,"Vhat did you do in zhe Ex-Zone? How did you make a living?"

"I was a pirate. I killed people and stole their gold." Kirkland replied shortly, "Now why are you so worried?"

"You were a pirate? Zhat's _awesome_!"

"Beilschmidt! Answer my question!"

Silence fell after Kirkland's outburst, he shivered again after the bout of anger, and that just made him more angry. He was about to reiterate his angry demand, but the Knight spoke before he could, "You're body is not used to zhe cold. It is not ready or dressed for it, so you may get too cold, ... und die."

"What?!" Kirkland had heard of people dying in the cold, but that hardly happened anymore, and not out on the sea … right. This wasn't the Ex-Zone. He kept forgetting.

"Just try to stay avake, ja?" Beilschmidt pleaded.

"Oh, all right." Kirkland scowled, trying to ignore the sudden dread that came immediately after the Prussian's announcement.

"Danke." Was all Beilschmidt said back.

The quiet came back between them now, and Kirkland broke it a moment later, "H-how far until we get to where we're going?"

"It vill take a vhile." Beilschmidt admitted with a puff of breath, "But we will hurry, und zhat should help."

"Right."

The silences were beginning to become awkward, so Kirkland began ignoring the Knight, focusing instead on his surroundings. The grey tone of the world hadn't left, and everything looked dead, the tree branches all jostling back and forth in the sharp wind. In an eerie way, it was beautiful. From what he could tell through the clouds, the sun was nearing the horizon. Faintly, Kirkland wondered if that would turn the clouds gold as it did in the Ex-Zone, or if the Mid-Zone was permanently grey.

He was mainly still shocked that he'd actually managed to make it into the Mid-Zone at all. He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to do here … Beilschmidt had shown up, but the man was no Alistair-

 _Alistair_! The token! How had he forgotten?!

Kirkland reached into his pocket, tearing out the small card from the Scotsman, truly, it had helped him get this far; how could he have forgotten it now when he was in a place where he knew nothing? Then again, it had been hard to think of anything other than Beilschmidt since he'd arrived. Considering the fact that he'd woken up with the Knight's sword against his throat, he supposed that his forgetfulness was understandable in the circumstances.

Now, what did the card say to do? Kirkland squinted at it in the grey light, wondering how he'd get away from Beilschmidt if it said run. He needn't have worried though. It had only really ever told him to stay so far anyway, and now it said quite clearly;

 **TRUST**

Trust … Trust Beilschmidt? As soon as he read it, and thought of the Prussian, Kirkland knew he was right. He needed to trust Beilschmidt. Well, that worked out all right with his situation, anyway. The Knight was the one with the sword and shield, and now Kirkland had practically promised that he'd help him find his brother. He had no doubt that the Prussian would make him follow through, too. Hopefully Alistair's card helped him when the time came. In the meantime, he supposed that he'd trust Beilschmidt.

"You're awake?" The Knight asked suddenly, and he replied stiffly,

"Of course!" Kirkland shoved the card away rather huffily.

"Gut."

Then they went back to ignoring each other.

Kirkland found himself watching the flurries of snow with wonder. They were so beautiful … Of course, he'd seen snow before, but never quite like this. Never quite this … clean. The snow he'd seen had all been when he'd stopped at some port or other, and now … now he was far away from the ocean (and he wasn't sure if he liked it all that much).

He had been right earlier, since the sky turned an orange color as the sun finally waved its final goodbye for the day. As soon as the sky turned orange, it was as though he'd been pulled into a different world. Everything around him took the hue, turning starker and darker and … warmer.

Even as the light faded away, Kirkland couldn't help but think that perhaps the Mid-Zone had it's perks, the same as the Ex-Zone.

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

 _"Oh, c'mon dad! I'm big enough!" A plaintive child's voice whined._

 _A deep chuckle came before the reply,"No, I don't think so."_

 _"But-"_

 _"No buts. Do you see your brother complaining?"_

 _"Mattie doesn't even care!"_

 _"Yes, I do-" Another small, quieter voice was overridden,_

 _"No you don't!"_

 _"Yes I do!" The other child gained volume just as another voice admonished,_

 _"Boys? Are you bothering your father again?"_

 _"Alfred wants to ride in Dad's plane."_

 _"Matthew, what have I told you about tattling, eh?"_

 _"Sorry."_

 _"I only want one quick ride!" The more boisterous voice wheedled._

 _"Son, you already told me that, now what did I say?" The chuckling voice from earlier turned firm, causing the other one to immediately become abashed,_

 _"You said I was too small."_

 _"Now, have I ever lied to you?"_

 _No answer._

 _"Alfred, answer your Father."_

 _Still no answer._

 _"Just answer, Al, before you get in trouble." The soft voice was back._

 _"No." The petulant answer finally came._

 _"Then why are you still asking?"_

 _"'Cause I really really really really really really really_ really _wanna ride!"_

 _"I promise I'll take you when you're older. How does that sound?"_

 _"But I'm not older now, an' I wanna go now!"_

 _"Alfred, your father just made you a very generous offer. Now what do you say?"_

 _"Okay."_

 _"What do you say?"_

 _"Thanks."_

 _"That's better."_

 _"Dad?"_

 _"Yes, Alfred?"_

 _"When will I be old enough?"_

 _"Well, I don't know … You know older kids really help their mothers with the chores, don't you?"_

 _"Oh! Y-yes! I knew that!" There was a small pattering of feet and the voice called from far away, "I'll clean up the stove_ real _nice! You'll see!"_

 _"Al, wait for me!" The softer voice followed with another pattering of feet._

 _"You know, one day they're not going to fall for that." A woman's voice laughed softly._

 _"I know. You know one day you're going to have to spank them?"_

 _"Not yet!"_

 _"No. Not yet." Both of the voices chuckled quietly, "Not yet."_

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

"I believe he is waking up." An old cracked tone spoke from above Kirkland, and he quickly realised that he was freezing. He also quickly realised that he was only wearing his breeches, his hat, shoes, shirt and coat all missing.

"He better be."

That was Beilschmidt's voice. What had happened?

"Gilbert, you must be patient. Zhe man vas almost dead when you brought him in."

"Ja, vell I told him to keep warm-"

"In just a thin blanket und coat?"

"What- what's going on?" Kirkland blinked open his eye. He found himself staring at the face of a crinkled old woman and a terrifyingly pale, red-eyed man. He must have been Beilschmidt. They were both dressed in thick, rough clothing that had as much colour as the world outside. Kirkland himself was buried under piles of blankets that looked to be made from the same material.

"You almost froze to death, zhat's vhat happened." The man stood back, running a hand through his hair, "If you had died- …"

"Ah, but he didn't die …" The old woman put the back of her wrinkly hand to Kirkland's cheek and he sighed a little at how _warm_ it was, "You got him to me just in time, Gilbert, und he's warming up quite nicely." Kirkland looked around at the warm fire lit room. It was so colourful compared to the world outside, Kirkland hadn't even realised how much he'd missed colour.

"Ja. Gut." Beilschmidt was so pale, it was as though he was part of the snowy landscape itself. His silvery white hair and his colourless skin only seemed to make his demonic red eyes all the brighter, "I need Herr Kirkland alive."

"Oh, _now_ I'm Herr Kirkland?" The Englishman couldn't stop a shiver as he began to smirk.

"Only for zhe sake of Frau Nussbaum."

"I told you to call me Oma, Gilbert!"

"Ach, Entschuldige bitte, dass ich es vergessen habe, Oma." The Prussian spoke respectfully, and Kirkland began to shiver harder even as he reveled in the Knight's abashed features.

"And zhat goes for you too, young man." Oma turned her glare on Kirkland who nodded automatically, his smile dying,

"O-of course, O-oma." His teeth had begun to clatter together, and he suddenly felt as though he were buried underneath piles of snow, despite the fact that there was a fire only a few feet away. Beilschmidt was back at his side almost instantly, putting a ridiculously warm hand against his cheek,

"He's beginning to warm up."

"Warm up?! It's bloody free-!"

"Go get zhe Wasser for his feet."

"Ja, ich gehe." The Knight stood and moved quickly to the fire, pulling the pot off and bringing it back, "It's not boiling."

"Gut." Oma twisted Kirkland so that he was sitting up, then she uncovered his feet, causing him to reflexively attempt to pull them back under the blanket. She pulled them back out quite firmly and then slapped one when he tried top pull them back in again, "Stop moving, I'm trying to help you warm up."

"But-" Kirkland stopped talking as Oma dipped her hands in the warm water and then she rubbed his feet. So … _warm_. The woman did it a few more times before just dipping his feet slowly into the pot itself. Kirkland couldn't help but let a sigh of pleasure escape him as his feet began to _feel_ again.

"See?" Beilschmidt declared loudly after hissing out another of his laughs, "Oma knows vhat she is doing!"

"Y-es." Kirkland flexed his feet experimentally, "I can see that."

"You must be from far away to get so cold so quickly, ja?" Oma asked, and Kirkland stiffened slightly.

"He's from anozher Zone, Oma." Beilschmidt said it nonchalantly, as though Kirkland _wasn't_ in danger of being killed due to that tidbit of information. The Englishman began to splutter indignantly nonetheless, and the Knight ignored it, "He's here to learn magic."

"Oh?" Oma smiled as she continued to rub his feet, "Sehr gut. You brought him to the right place then, Liebling." She smiled at Beilchmidt, "Is that why you zhink he will help to find little Ludwig?"

"Ja. He said he vould help me."

"I'm right here, you know!" Kirkland was tired of being spoken of, rather than to; so he made it known with his barbed tone. Oma merely fixed him with a look,

"You Jumped from your Zone to zhis one?"

"I- … well, yes."

"Zhen you know how to Jump …" She mused softly, then speared him again, "Who taught you how to Jump?"

"Ah- well, … It's difficult to explain-"

"I cannot teach you magic unless I know vhat kind you have." Oma's voice was as soft as her wrinkled hands, but became firmer when she turned to Beilschmidt, "Go help Albert with zhe firewood."

"Ja, Oma." The Knight disappeared quickly, sensing that he wasn't wanted. Kirkland was now left alone with the old German woman.

"Artur-" She smiled at his abrupt look, "Gilbert told me your name."

"Of _course_ he did." Kirkland scowled, then softened his face as he remembered what she'd just said, "You know magic?"

"For a long time I have known." She nodded, "I am old. I vas taken from my home long ago …"

"Were you part of the resistance?"

"Oh, I was one of the founders!" She grinned, showing that she had a few missing teeth, "I could never Jump though, so I worked mainly from zhis Zone."

"Is that why you weren't caught?"

"One of zhe reasons." She seemed lost in her memories, but after a moment, she came back to focus on him, "Now. Gilbert is gone, so no one is going to laugh at you. How did you learn to Jump?"

"Well, … I was led to a page … it was in the royal library-"

"A page?"

"Yes, … It was in a different language, but the word at the top … Kirkland was surprised when the whole page suddenly popped from his memory, "It said Salire."

"Latin." Oma breathed, "You found one of the pieces of resistance?"

"I- what?" Kirkland was understandably confused.

"What led you to zhe page?" She seemed like she was ready to grab him and shake the answer out, but he finally bit the bullet and pulled out the token,

"This."

"Ah …" Her veins stood out as she reached to take the card from him. Kirkland couldn't help but notice that it was blank. She held it reverently, turning it over a few times, then her gap-toothed smile was back, "Alistair."

"You know him?" Kirkland almost stood up in surprise, but her hand stilled him as she laughed fondly,

"Of course I know him! He was a boy at zhe time, but he was determined to see _his_ Scotland. Oh, I'm so glad zhat he was just Jumped as punishment …"

"He said he was repressed," Kirkland recalled, and Oma's hand tightened on his knee,

"Zhey stifled little Alistair's magic?!"

"Well- …" Kirkland was uncomfortable with how the conversation had turned, and he really wanted the card back. He hadn't realized how much he relied on it till just now, "He told me that was his last token …"

"Ach … such talent …" She lamented quietly, "He was only a boy … and now he's just a weak seer … his brothers were always good at that too …" Oma looked up at Kirkland again, "He gave you zhe gift of his magic, Liebling. He has been directing you?"

"Yes … up till now …" Kirkland was having trouble understanding what it all meant, "Do you mean to say that he gave the last of his magic to me?"

"Ja." Oma sighed softly, "He put it in zhe card for your benefit … Zhat is vhat makes it a token. Und because he is repressed, it vas zhe last of his magic, making it his _last_ token."

"Well-" Kirkland found himself feeling guilty for being angry at the Scot at all. He'd obviously given up quite a bit, "Why didn't he just come with me?!"

Oma sighed again, standing slowly, her fingers still rubbing the card, "He is probably being watched, zhe same as Gilbert. Zhey were just children when it happened, yet zhey have to bear zhe consequences."

"Are you telling me that Alistair doesn't have any magic left?"

"Not without anyone to take off zhe suppressor." Oma nodded, "He is still connected to zhe card though. He can feel your progress."

"So … he can hear us now?"

"No … zhe gift of sight rarely works so easily. Usually, important events show up in dreams und sometimes even visions." Oma held the card out to him, and Kirkland felt slightly guilty at how quickly he grabbed for it, "I sense zhat you have some of zhe gift, though Alistair had it much stronger. He vas alvays good at telling when trouble was coming …"

"How do you take off the suppressor?"

"Zhat is one of zhe things I vill teach you, Artur." She smiled again, "Und not just for Alistair's sake, but for yours."

"You can really teach me magic?" Arthur was now twiddling the card in his fingers, the same as she had been.

"Ja. It may take a vhile, but I vill do my best. Zhen I want you to do your best to make certain zhat zhe Bosses pay for all zhat zhey have done. Zhat will be how you pay me back."

"I would have done that anyway." Kirkland smiled back at her now, even as she turned to leave, "Where are you going?"

"I am going to make dinner, und you are going back to bed. I'll vake you vhen it is time to eat, ja?"

"I supposed I can't complain …" Kirkland replied as she closed the door behind her. He stayed there with his feet in the pot, contemplating Alistair's last token, "Why didn't you tell me how much this meant, you git?" He asked softly. Probably because the Scot had been drunk off his rocker; yet that still didn't explain how the man had managed to disappear into thin air.

Kirkland sighed as he pulled his feet up out of the water, only to put them right back in. Apparently he was still colder than he'd thought. Yet he could hear sounds of cooking through the thin wooden door, and couldn't help the excitement that he felt _bubbling_ up inside of him.

He was going to learn _magic_!

"I can't wait to see the look on Bonnefoy's face-" He cut himself off. Why was he ruining a perfectly good moment thinking about that frog? "Because I'm going to be the one that kills him." He whispered, and now he'd be able to. First he'd kill Farley though. That stupid prick had no right to go about killing Renheart, and Kirkland wasn't going to forget that anytime soon.

"You look better!" A twittery voice floated in from above him and he looked up to see-

"Some guardian _you_ turned out to be!"

"I'm sorry!" Flying Mint Bunny looked close to tears almost immediately, "I got distracted by the new Zone! It was so pretty and white!"

"I didn't think it was pretty at all!" Kirkland lied, "Especially when I almost _froze_ to _death_ in it!"

"I won't get distracted again, I swear! I'll be a good friend! I'll always be there for you when you need me, just say my name-"

"All right, I get it!" Kirkland put up a placating hand to stop the stream of promises (he'd honestly forgotten that the bunny even existed), "I'll call you next time I need you."

"You will?!"

"Yes." Kirkland sighed, finally feeling the warmth of his toes reach his chest, "Any time I need help."

"Oh, I'll help with anything! I can help you if you sometimes have trouble with magic, or I can-"

"You can help me learn magic too?" Kirkland sat up straighter at that revelation, having forgotten that the rabbit had helped him open the portal.

"Oh yes! I know your kind of magic best, after all! That's why you're the only one who can see me!"

"I'm the only-"

"Who are you talking to, Poopy Baby?" Beilschmidt had poked his head in and Kirkland, even though Flying Mint Bunny had just mentioned that he was the only one who could see it, answered,

"Flying Mint Bunny."

"I don't see any of zhose zhings." The Knight looked around the room skeptically, then Kirkland heard him whisper, "Gilbird, Artur is crazy."

"I am not crazy, you twat!" Kirkland immediately spat, having by now realized his mistake, "Besides, I'm not the one who just names everything after himself! Who are you talking to now? Your sword?"

"Nein, it's Gilbird!" The Prussian opened the door more, revealing a small yellow bird on his shoulder. It looked a little like the one that Bonnefoy sometimes had on his shoulder in the way that it ruffled its feathers, seeming to regard him with disdain (Bonnefoy's was white, but it often did the same thing).

"Gilbert! Stop bothering Artur and come help me make the soup!" Oma's voice called, and another, younger voice agreed,

"Ja, Gilbert!"

"I'm coming!" Gilbert called back, but right before he closed the door, he fixed Kirkland with a mischievous look and hissed, "You're crazy!" Kirkland could hear him laughing through the door nonetheless and sighed.

"You should sleep." Flying Mint Bunny spoke kindly from where it floated in the corner, "You look really tired."

"I am." Kirkland sighed again, and was happy that he only felt slightly colder when he pulled his feet back out of the luke-warm water, "Are you going to leave while I'm asleep?"

"Oh no, not this time." The rabbit replied stoutly, then added tremulously, "U-unless you want me to?"

"No, no it's fine." Kirkland burrowed into the blankets, trying to keep his thoughts off of the last few overwhelming days of his life, "Just … wake me up-" He paused to yawn, then finished, "If anything important happens …"

"Okay!" Flying Mint Bunny agreed happily, and Kirkland fell asleep to the green glow.

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

 _"Please don't take them! Please!" It was the same small voice from earlier, but now it was desperate with fear. The other one joined it,_

 _"But-!"_

 _"Be brave, sweeties."_

 _"Shut up, lady." A gruff voice sounded, "And you kids beat it. No talking to the prisoners."_

 _"But-"_

 _"Alfred …" The Dad's voice from earlier stopped the first child and the other one finished anyway,_

 _"They aren't prisoners! They're our Mom and Dad!"_

 _"Oho!" The gruff voice seemed surprised, "You said these were the neighborhood kids!"_

 _"They are, they just like to call us- oomph!" The Father was cut off with a loud thud,_

 _"Daddy!"_

 _"Hey, you leave my Dad alone you big jerk!"_

 _"You two know what happens to the kids if there's more than one …"_

 _"No, please! They're just children!"_

 _"I said shut_ up _, lady!" There was a scream, quickly followed by two more and a shout,_

 _"Don't_ touch _my wife!"_

 _"I'll do what I want, rebel."_

 _"L-leave my Mom and D-dad alone." The small voice was resolute, and the other one agreed with it,_

 _"Please …"_

 _"Mattie, bad guys don't listen when you say please."_

 _"Damn right we don't." The gruff voice laughed, oblivious to the gasps at its language, "Grab the kids, let's split 'em up."_

 _"They're twins! Please, leave them together!"_

 _"Do I have to cut your tongue out, lady, or are you gonna shut it?"_

 _"Leave my Mom alone, or I'll beat you up!"_

 _"Al- …" The softer voice warned as the gruff voice began laughing,_

 _"You? You're gonna beat me up kid?"_

 _"Yes. Because you're a_ bad _man."_

 _"That's cute. That really is." The voice suddenly stopped laughing, "I said_ grab the kids _! Don't make me say it again!"_

 _"Yes, sir!"_

 _"Ahh, lemme go!" The soft voice_ _squealed and it's louder twin shouted,_

 _"Don't touch my brother_ _!"_

 _There was a smacking sound and then a shout of, "Alfred, no!"_

 _"Liam, … did that kid just pick you up and throw you across the room?"_

 _"I- I think so …"_

 _"You got a demon kid?!"_

 _"No! We didn't! That was- oomph!"_

 _"Dad!"_

 _"Alfred, no!"_

 _"But Dad …"_

 _"That was me using my magic …" The woman was obviously crying._

 _"You know that's against the rules. And you know what the punishment is for breaking that rule." There was a crackling sound and a pair of children screamed,_

 _"Mommy!"_

 _"No! Leave her alone!"_

 _"Don't worry, you're next." The crackling sound resumed after a loud snap and a groan,_

 _"Mommy! Stop it!"_

 _"Nobody hits my Dad_ and _hurts my Mom-"_

 _"A-alfred …" The woman's voice said weakly, stopping the child, "Be good …"_

 _"Please, do-n't make them watch … this … let us say goodbye …" The Father pleaded._

 _Fine. Say your goodbyes. But make it fast, 'cause then your kids are goin' out, got it?"_

 _"Al-fred. Save your strength for the- … the right time, you hear me?"_

 _"I- … I hear you Dad …" The child's voice sounded broken._

 _"Mommy?" The other child questioned, but the father answered,_

 _"Matthew, Alfred, I love you, and so does your Mother, you understand?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"But what about you and Mommy?" The louder child added,_

 _"Don't worry about us. Just go with the men, and don't make a fuss, no matter what they ask you to do."_

 _"O-okay."_

 _"Okay, I letcha say your goodbyes. You're done now."_

 _"We love you!"_

 _"Get those kids outta here!"_

 _"Yes, sir."_

 _"Stop bein' such a baby Liam, it was the lady who made 'im that strong. Just pick 'em up!"_

 _"Yes, sir!"_

 _"I love you Dad! I love you Mom!" The louder voice shouted while the quiet one began to cry,_

 _"M-mommy's dead …"_

 _"Don't worry Mattie. Mom's not dead. She_ can't _be!" The voices faded away and the gruff voice laughed,_

 _"Cute kids. Too bad we're Jumpin' 'em both."_

 _"Both?! You can't- aughh!"_

 _"I can do whatever the hell I want."_

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

Kirkland awoke in a sweat, the dream lingering long enough for him to remember Oma's words about dreams and visions. All of the dreams he'd had so far were like this, and he only remembered it for a moment longer before it left his mind as Flying Mint Bunny chirped,

"I told you I'd stay, and here I am! You look like you had a bad dream though …"

"I- … I don't know if it _was_ a dream."

"You should just go back to sleep. You need it." The rabbit supplied helpfully.

"Y-yes … I- I think I'll do that …" Kirkland laid back, but it was quite a while before he was able to fall back asleep.

* * *

 **Betcha didn't see that comin'! Two dreams in one chapter! That second one was really hard to write though, since it was just so … sad.**

 **Prussia! He's here! Hooray! Let's all do an awesome dance, because the AWESOME ME is HERE!**

 **Okay, I know a lot of this seems random, but that's because it is. I have a skeleton plot, but it's loose enough that I can just be** **like, "You know what this needs? Scotland." or "I want Flying Mint Bunny in this, right now." or even, "Aw heck, let's just put some really disturbingly sad dreams in, because I can!" So yeah … a lot of this is just me flying by the seat of my pants … but it's still good, right?**

 **Okay, this is the longest chapter yet, and I'm sorry, but luckily, It didn't feel (at least not to me) as stilted as the last two.**

 **Again, any questions, I'll gladly answer.**

 **Any suggestions on characters, just lemme know. :) C y'all later dudes! (And don't worry, Prussia isn't leaving anytime soon.)**


	6. Chapter 5

**This chapter has been killing me. I finally finished, and now I want to go on. Such is my life. Of course, there will be a year and a half Hiatus on all of my stories starting May 2nd. But I wanted to get this up before I went.**

 **Thank you to those who have patiently waited for this. I may get another one up before I go, since this one was so exciting. I hate leaving things open.**

 **So Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, but I do own the Zone idea. … not that it's all that special, but I've done more history searches than I'd hoped to. :) So enjoy.**

* * *

"Artur …" A voice pried its way into Kirkland's muddled mind, and he groaned, rolling away from it in annoyance. It didn't go away however, and he felt something poke his cheek repeatedly, "Aaaarrtur …" The voice sang nasally, then hissed–no. _S_ _nickered_ gleefully.

"Hey, you told me to wake you up when something important happened, but you didn't tell me what to do if you didn't wake up!" A high-pitched panicked voice floated into the dream that was swiftly slipping away.

"Sod off, Bunny …" Kirkland moaned and another hiss followed,

"I'm not a _bunny_ , Poopy Baby …"

"I'm not-" Kirkland suddenly recognised the voice, and knew exactly what was going on. He shot upright in bed, his eyes wide, meeting Beilschmidt's twinkling gaze. The Knight was grinning stupidly.

"You don't even need zhis thing!"

It took Kirkland a moment to focus on the thing that the Knight had unceremoniously shoved into his face, but he soon recognised it as his eye-patch. It swung back and forth from Beilschmidt's pale fingers as the Prussian continued to hiss out his peculiar laugh.

Then it only took Kirkland a moment to gather his wits and snatch his property back with a snap, "Mind your own business, twat!"

"Your business _is_ my business now, Poopy Baby!" Beilschmidt laughed as he danced out of Kirkland's reach, obviously knowing that the Englishman's fists were itching to bend his nose the other direction, "It's time for dinner anyvay, so come und eat!"

"I tried to wake you up!" Flying Mint Bunny was hovering just behind the cackling Knight, and its voice wavered with grief, "I'm a terrible guardian. I couldn't even get you to wake up …"

"It's fine!" Kirkland put up a hand (The one with the eye-patch, incidentally), and both of the people (creatures?) in front of him quieted immediately, "You're a fine guardian. Just-" He suddenly realized that he was talking to the Bunny, and Beilschmidt was right there. The Knight couldn't see the Bunny. He didn't even know it existed.

"I'm not your guardian, Artur …" Beilschmidt was understandably confused, his laughter from earlier dead, "You obviously need food more than I thought you did."

"Oh, … yes." Kirkland smiled awkwardly, realizing that talking to the Bunny probably hadn't been his best move, "I'm, … uh, … _very_ hungry."

"Gut …" Beilschmidt could obviously feel the awkwardness as well, since he didn't seem to know what to say, finally choosing to open the door, "Vell, dinner is ready … just follow me."

"Wonderful." Kirkland smiled at Mint Bunny on his way out, and the creature beamed back at him happily. He was going to have to learn how to censor his speech around the small thing though, since he _was_ the only one who could see it.

He entered the dining room, and saw that the table was already set with Oma and a young lad who could have only been Albert sitting at it. He did a slight double take when he saw the boy. He looked as though he could have been related to Renheart, though he had contrastingly lighter hair and seemed to be superior in height, despite his youth, matching Kirkland in that respect. Oma's face crinkled into a smile as she ladled some soup into a bowl at an empty seat, gesturing for the Captain to sit in it.

He sat down, inhaling the absolutely heavenly aroma that floated pleasantly up from his soup, and looked over at Albert. The lad seemed to be studiously attempting to ignore him, pointedly looking at his own bowl. Arthur was struck by just how much like Renheart the boy looked, though his eyes were bluer, and he seemed more reserved.

Kirkland considered introducing himself formally to everyone, but never got the chance.

"So, Artur!" Beilschmidt took his own seat with a predatory grin just across the table. "I hope you are ready to learn magic, because you only have a week!"

Kirkland stopped with his hand halfway to his spoon, quirking his eyebrow and only then realizing that he'd forgotten to replace his eyepatch. "Sorry?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow!" Beilschmidt hissed. "Und I am gone for the week on business! Vhen I get back, we're going to find mein bruder, und zhat vill require magic, so listen to Oma vell!"

"Gilbert!" Oma's voice was filled with disapproval. "You know zhat it vill take more zhan a week!"

"Omaaaa …" The Knight whined, but Kirkland ignored him.

"How long _will_ it take?"

"Zhat depends on you." Oma sat demurely in her own seat at the head of the table, having finished serving them. "Gilbert has to work for zhe Bosses every week, but he vill be back on zhe weekends. You vill go vith him vhen you are ready."

"I- …" The Englishman had long ago given up on ever getting to eat his bite, and left the spoon in his bowl as he turned to the Knight. "You work for the Bosses?"

"I told you zhat zhey were vatching mein bruder, ja?" Gilbert's exuberant attitude mellowed considerably, and the answer snapped in Arthur's mind.

"If they've got you under their thumb, how are we supposed to leave when I'm done learning magic?"

"Just learn magic, Poopy Baby." Beilschmidt's eyes slid away from the confrontation that Kirkland's green gaze presented. "I vill worry about zhe Bosses."

No one had the chance to press the issue, as Albert broke in just then with a choking chuckle. "Poopy Baby?!"

"Oh, don't ask." Arthur huffed as Beilschmidt grinned. Albert seemed to come out of his shell a little at that, and laughed more loudly.

"Are you really a pirate?"

"Yes." Kirkland nodded, wondering at the boy's already shining eyes. He didn't need another lad following him around and looking up to him as Renheart had (he'd seen how that ended), but it seemed inevitable. "Captain Arthur Kirkland."

"Zhat is amazing." The boy was in awe, then ducked his head bashfully. "I ... have never seen zhe ocean."

"I can't say I don't miss it, myself." Arthur acquiesced, happy that the boy hadn't mentioned any other part of his previous occupation. "This weather is absolutely horrid."

"Ja. You need a coat." Oma agreed, having been watching up till now with twinkling eyes.

"Seriously." Beilschmidt agreed, talking with his mouth full. "You are weak."

"Well, I wasn't born here, you prig." Kirkland chided, deciding that he wouldn't allow himself to be ruffled by the Knight if he could help it. Someone had to be the adult, and it looked like it was always going to be him (name-calling didn't count. Beilschmidt deserved it anyway).

"Gilbert." Oma gave the Knight a look of disapproval. "Jumping is more difficult than I think you are aware. Herr Kirkland is lucky to have survived at all on his first time, especially alone." Arthur choked on his soup at that, his eyes flicking to the mint bunny that had been floating near Albert's head since the beginning of the meal. He was suddenly immensely grateful for it, and finally managed to swallow. Oma hadn't noticed. "He is also here to help, liebling." She smiled at the Prussian. "Don't forget zhat."

"Ja, ja. Es tut mir leid." Beilschmidt stood. "I should go now anyvay. I'm already late as es ist."

"Late to what?" Kirkland inquired, intrigued.

"An execution." Red eyes held no twinkle and the Knight's mouth stayed pressed into a grim line. "Unlicensed magic user. Zhey caught zhe rebel just two weeks ago."

"Your job is to execute rebels?!" Kirkland stood in shock and surprise, tipping his chair behind him. He only faintly heard it clatter to the floor, and the bird on Gilbert's shoulder glared.

"Und help catch them." The prussian wasn't backing down. "But not for much longer." He swept out of the room swiftly, and silence reigned in his stead.

"Are you okay?" Mint Bunny asked.

Kirkland took a moment. He had to. To gather up his strewn thoughts. It was people like Gilbert that tore families apart, repressed people like Alistair, acting as muscle on behalf of the Bosses, ... but Alistair's token had said to trust him … "I-" He looked at the Bunny. "Fine. I'm fine." He directed that last bit to the other two at the table, leaning down to pick up his chair.

"He is a gut man." Albert said suddenly, his light eyes had turned a little harder. "He saves as many as he can. He is a hero."

"I … Of course." Kirkland sighed. "I know that. He did save me, after all … I just …"

"Your feelings are understandable." Oma sympathised. "It is hard to imagine zhat he is forced to stand by und vatch people die. His vater vas one of them though, und zhat's vhy he lost his bruder in zhe first place."

"His father …" Kirkland felt some sort of memory stirring at the thought of the Knight's father, but he couldn't place why it seemed familiar. "And they didn't just take his magic, like they did with Alistair?"

"Nein." Oma shook her head. "Zhey only did zhat mit children. Adults …"

"Mein Vater vas killed." Albert had been stirring his soup absently since his earlier outburst, and now he stood suddenly. "I am going to chop some more wood." He left the room and Arthur felt the oppressing mood peak.

"I- …" Kirkland had never felt so completely out of control, and he couldn't say that he liked it at all. "I didn't mean to-"

"Zhere is a lot of pain in zhose two." Oma stood. "Zhere is not much zhat I can do about it. I cannot bring zheir families back …" She began cleaning the table. "Zhat is where you come in."

"I- I can't bring people back from the dead …" Kirkland looked at the door to the kitchen, after the lad who had stormed through it, guilt twisting in his stomach.

"Nein, but you can stop zhis senseless killing. You can bring zhe rebellion back to life, und zhat will be enough for Gilbert und Albert." Oma stopped next to him. "But you have to learn magic first."

It took Kirkland a moment to register what she'd said, and by the time he did, she'd taken his dish to the sink as well, leaving the wooden table bare and tidy. "Er, right." He stood, tucking his chair back in before turning to her. "When do I start?"

Oma chuckled as she turned away from the washtub. "Now vould be a gut time."

That answer surprised him, and he heard Mint Bunny's tinkling laughter behind him. "Yay! You get to learn magic! This will be so much fun!"

"Now?" He asked as Oma continued washing off the dishes.

"Don't worry, I'll be here to help!" Bunny said happily.

"Vell, you could probably dry zhe dishes first." Oma's eyes glinted with humor as she looked back at him, and he knew that his discomfort was written all over his face.

Inwardly he cursed. This entire trip, the shock of Jumping, magic and hypothermia were all getting to him, and it annoyed him. He was Captain Arthur Ignatius Kirkland. He was not about to fall apart just because of a little magic. He didn't need Alistair's token to give him bravery. So, consciously, he puffed up his chest, straightening his back as he pulled on the eyepatch that had been in his fist since he'd first woken. "Of course." He strode forward and began drying the dishes with a vengeance.

"Isn't this exciting?" Mint Bunny floated at his shoulder. "I'm so happy that you're learning magic!"

He didn't deign to answer as Oma finished with the last dish, then put the pot of leftover soup back over the fire to keep it warm. Then she put away all of the dry dishes, taking the last one out of his hands with a soft smile. "Sit at zhe table. Ve have much to discuss."

"Right." He took his seat at the table, feeling his nerves start back up, and quenching them with more than a little annoyance. Oma sat across from him this time, leaving the head of the table empty as she sat forward, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Artur, zhe first zhing zhat you must learn about magic, is zhat everyone has it."

"I- what?" Kirkland leaned forward just a little. "I was given to believe that few had it, and even fewer had as much as I seem to have. Alistair even told me that I had more than he'd ever felt in one place before …" He trailed off at her long-suffering smile.

"He did not clarify zhen."

"Oh." Kirkland knew that he sounded like an inarticulate fool, but he was thinking back to the fact that the Scot had been drunk off his rocker at the time, so of course he hadn't clarified, and then he found his mind wondering what sort of magic his crewmen had been in possession of, and if they had been able to use it, could they have beaten Bonnefoy? Speaking of the Frog, what sort of magic-

"I know zhat it is difficult to imagine zhat all of zhe people around you have magic, but it's true." Oma seemed to know what he was thinking. "But zhere are different kinds." She held up a hand to forestall his next question, answering it preemptively. "Like me, you have zhe traditional kind, und you have a lot of it. I'm sure zhat zhat is vhat Alistair vas talking about."

"Traditional kind?" Kirkland inquired, already feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

"Wands, incantations, spells, potions …" Oma was looking at him intently, waiting for it to click. "Zhe kind of magic zhat most people zhink of vhen zhey zhink of magic."

It did click, and Kirkland frowned. "What other sorts of magic are there?"

"Little zhings, extensions of traits zhat people have …" Oma elaborated. "Some people have foresight, like Alistair, und he has more of it zhan anyone else I have ever known. To see into zhe future, you vould have to perform a difficult spell. He can just sense it."

"Is that what he put into his card?" Kirkland felt the guilt come back at that, and he found himself pulling out the blank card, wondering if he'd left the Scot defenseless.

"Partly. But I believe he also put in his ability to read people." Oma looked sad as she considered the card. "Zhat is vhy it vas able to so successfully lead you to Gilbert und me."

There was that guilt again.

"Are there other kinds?"

"Of course." Oma seemed shocked that he would ask. "Some people are stronger zhan others, some can see auras, or even deceased individuals."

"Some can see the dead?" Kirkland felt his stomach clench at that. He would much rather see the Mint Bunny than a dead man.

"Ja, und some can see othervise invisible creatures."

Kirkland remained studiously silent, willing himself to keep his eyes on Oma, and not allow them to stray to the giggling Bunny. "I'm so happy that you can see me!"

"Some have naturally enhanced abilities, such as zhe ability to fix zhings or zhe ability to cook or even sing. Some can become invisible, und some can become intangible. Most of zhe people vill be unaware of zhere abilities, though, even if zhey are actively using zhem."

"What about auras?" Kirkland recalled what she had said about some being able to see them.

"Everyone has a different aura, und I vill teach you a spell zhat vill allow zhem to be revealed vhen people use zheir magic. Some people even have zhe ability to extend zheir auras visibly, und use zhem to affect others."

"Then, … I have to learn spells to use my magic?"

"Ja." Oma muttered something as she stood, walking to the dish cabinet. Kirkland remained silent as he watched her wave her hand in front of it, whispering something as she did so, then opening the cabinet to reveal a shelf of worn books. She pulled one out, and he could see the latin lettering on the side. She set it down on the table between them. "Zhis is now yours. You must read it vell, und it vill teach you all of zhe magic zhat you need to know. But zhe first spell you must learn is zhe one zhat vill help Alistair."

"The one that will give him his magic back?"

"Ja." Oma opened the book. "Zhe fact zhat he was able to give you some at all means zhat he vas able to hide it from zhe Bosses. He alvays vas very gut. I am sure zhat if you fix him up, he vill be able to help you even more." She stopped on a certain page, pointing to the word at the top as she turned it so he could read.

"Restituere?" Arthur was certain that he'd just botched the word, but that didn't stop him from trying.

"Restore." Oma translated. "Zhat vill remove his suppressor."

"All right." Kirkland frowned at all of the Latin underneath the word. "Do I have to say all of that?"

"Nein." Oma laughed lightly, "I vill show you zhe translation spell vhen ve are done, und it vill help. But first, I must show you zhe spell zhat vill help you find Gilbert's little Bruder." She took the book back, dog-earing the page before leafing through it again to find the next spell. Soon, he had it back.

"What does inveniet mean?" He looked at her, and she translated once more.

"Find. You could use it right now if you wanted to find Albert."

"How?" Kirkland found that Mint Bunny's exuberance had bled into him a little, and he was excited to try a spell. "Will it feel like it did when I Jumped?"

"Nein. It should not." Oma motioned for him to stand. "First, you need to reveal zhe auras of zhe people around you. Zhen you must speak zhe word vith full intent. Once you have done zhe spell once, you von't have to speak it to do it again."

"How do I reveal auras?" Kirkland's stomach had long since erupted in butterflies, but he wasn't about to back down now.

 _"Revelare._ " Oma spoke softly, closing her eyes for a moment. When they opened, they were glowing. She nodded at him, and he closed his own eyes, preparing mentally to do the same.

Kirkland felt energy rush out of him after saying the word, and nothing prepared him for the burst of colour that assaulted him when he opened his eyes once more. Oma was surrounded by a violet-grey aura, and Kirkland could see an acidic green pressing in on he himself. "This spell …" He gasped.

"Isn't magic beautiful!?" Mint Bunny giggled, twirling in loops.

"You only need to use it once." Oma smiled, and it struck Kirkland that her aura made her appear much younger. "Zhen zhe aura's vill be visible vhen you use other spells, und vhen people use spells themselves. Try zhe spell."

It took him a moment to remember what she meant, as he'd been staring at Flying Mint Bunny, who had a pure white aura brighter than the snow outside.

"Focus only on Albert, und zhe spell vill lead you to him."

"Right." Kirkland found himself closing his eyes again, as a reflex, and spoke the spell softly, focussing only on the young lad who had stormed out earlier. " _inveniet._ " Again, he felt energy leave him. When he opened his eyes, they immediately honed in on the bright orange-gold stream of light that poured from under the door. "So, if I follow that …"

"It vill take you to Albert." Oma nodded.

"And I never have to say the spell again?"

"Nein, if you don't want to. You have awoken your magical ability, but it vill remember zhe spell. It vill take more energy to do it silently, but now zhat your magic has done it once, it vill do it again without verbal help, yet require more."

"Like Jumping."

"Jumping is not something zhat can just be learned. You must either be taught by someone who already knows, or you must find it imbued into one of zhe pieces of resistance."

"And that's what woke up my magic originally?"

"It's too bad you didn't wake it up earlier too!" Mint Bunny nodded before Oma answered.

"Ja." Oma's aura was beginning to fade, and Kirkland's was following suit. Albert's was still shining strongly from under the door though, and Arthur wondered if it would fade, or if he had to go find the lad to make it stop. "I am surprised zhat you hadn't woken up your magic on your own already, but it is more difficult to awaken zhe traditional kind."

"Oh."

"Alistair knew zhis, I am sure, und zhat is vhy his token led you to zhe piece of resistance."

"How many are there? Pieces of resistance, I mean." Kirkland found that he was a little tired.

"Not many." Oma sat back across from him, seeming older than before now that her aura had faded. She suddenly gave him a coy look. "I can tell zhat you still see Albert's aura."

"It is … very bright." Arthur admitted.

"End zhe spell. Finis." Oma prompted.

" _Finis_." Arthur closed his eyes again to say it, and when he opened them, the light was gone. … He sighed in its absence, then caught the knowing look across from him. "What?"

"We must learn more spells." Oma said. "You tire too quickly, und zhe more you know, zhe better off you vill be."

"Of course I tire quickly!" Irritation bubbled from within him. "It uses my energy!"

"Und zhat is vhy ve must teach you more spells. Zhe more often you use magic, zhe more energy it vill take."

"So let's practice!" Mint Bunny cheered, and Kirkland prepped himself to learn. If this was what would get him back to his England, so be it.

So for the next while (Kirkland lost track of time), he practiced. He learned how to make a trans-dimentional pocket, so he could store things there for later. Oma insisted that he put the books in it for safekeeping at the end, but that was only after he learned a billion other things.

He learned how to wake up other people's magic, he learned how to transfer and steal energy, he learned how to see things through the eyes of others, he learned how to read minds (he was really bad at it, and as far as he was concerned, he wouldn't be doing it again), he learned how to suppress other people's magic (and he wondered who he would use it on until he remembered Farley, then he vowed to use it), and he learned how to make invisible things visible … all in all, it was an exhausting hour(s?).

He was so tired by the end, he barely registered that they were finished. He hardly recalled being led to bed, faintly remembered Bunny congratulating him on how well he'd done, only distantly knew of falling into a dreamless sleep ...

Almost.

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

 _"Nyet, Natalya, you cannot come."_

 _"Big brother! You cannot leave!"_

 _"Sestra, you know vhy I must go."_

 _"I do not care vhat you saw in the snow, brother. You cannot go. You saw wrong. The Winter was wrong thees time."_

 _"Natalya. You know the Winter is never wrong."_

 _"Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!"  
_

 _"Da, sestra. Tell Katyusha that I took the scarf, da?"_

 _"Nyet!"_

 _"Proshchay, sestra. Do not follow me."_

 _A door closed against the sound of the howling wind, and a guttural growl followed._

 _"If anyone hurts bol'shoy brat, I weel kill them. Ne budet nikakoy poshchady."_

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

Kirkland felt himself pulled from sleep, though it wasn't by anything discernible … There was no sunlight streaming through his window, and the darkness that surrounded him felt warm and comfortable. His dream was fading fast, but it felt important, and he vowed to tell Oma about it later.

He decided to practice his magic a little, and summoned a light. It felt a little like stretching in the morning, after all of the hard work he'd done yesterday. The mellow light bathed the room in soft green, and he stood, pulling on his shirt and boots, immediately missing his blanket and bed.

He pulled on his coat, tied his cravat, and grabbed his hat before leaving the room. The kitchen was empty, and he knew that Oma and Albert would still be asleep upstairs. He was surprised that he couldn't see Mint Bunny anywhere, and figured that perhaps the little creature was tired after yesterday as well.

Kirkland felt the need to move, however, and quickly neared the front door. He could feel the cold leeching in from underneath, and stopped before he opened it, having second thoughts. An idea came to him quickly, and he almost mechanically reached into his trans-dimensional pocket, pulling out the book. The light came to float over his shoulder obediently as he flipped through the book to the charms section, setting it on the table. Soon he found it. It was–according to the book–a comfort charm. It would keep him warm in cold weather, and cool in warm weather. Well. This would definitely be worth it.

" _temperatus imperium._ "

Everything went black.

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

 _"Why do you have to leave, Toño?"_

 _"Lalo, there are bad men. Remember the bad men?"  
_

 _"Sí."_

 _"Muy bien, Lalo! Do you remember what Papa said about them?"_

 _"Papa said that he had to help to stop them."_

 _"¡Sí! Now Papa needs help, Lalo, and I am going to give it to him."_

 _"Can I come?"_

 _"No, Mama needs help too. Stay here with Mama, and tell her that I left, bueno?"_

 _"¿Por qué?"_

 _"Mama is sick, Lalo, she needs you very much right now. Don't worry, I'll be back."_

 _"Soon?"_

 _"Sí, very soon. ¿Bueno?"_

 _"Bueno."_

 _"Gracias, Lalo! I will be back soon! Tell Mama that I will come back soon, sí?"_

 _"¡Sí, Toño! I weel!"_

 _"¡Adiós, Lalo!"_

 _"¡Adiós, Toño! Tell Papa that I love him!"_

 _"¡Sí! Of course I will!"_

~Hetalia~Dream~Hetalia~

"Artur? Artur!"

"Please don't be dead! I already messed up once!"

Kirkland wasn't awake, at least, he didn't think he was. Not until he felt the splash of water on his face.

"Albert!"

"Was?! He vasn't vaking up!"

"I- what-?" Kirkland spluttered awake, finding two blurred figures over his head.

"Thank heavens you're awake! I thought you were dead!" That was the Bunny again.

"Oh, you are avake!" Albert's voice had never been shriller, and Oma's face brightened (from what he could tell, through the blur). Faintly, he wondered why it had been dark.

"You fainted, Herr Kirkland." Oma put a hand on his chest, prompting him to stay still. Secretly, he was thinking of never moving again.

"Why- …?" Kirkland's eyes were coming slowly into focus, allowing him to truly see the relief on their faces.

"You did a spell zhat you weren't ready for yet." Oma's face had turned serious now. "I should have warned you."

"I should have been there, I could have warned you …" Bunny sobbed.

"Warned me …" The Englishman found himself worryingly short of breath. "Of what?"

"Some spells take more energy zhan others, Artur." Oma proffered the book at him, and after the words stop swimming, he could see that it was his comfort spell. "Did you attempt zhis spell?"

"Er, …" Kirkland felt himself go red. Trust him to have fainted on such a seemingly silly spell. "I suppose I must have."

"Zhis is a very advanced spell. You are lucky to be alive at all after trying it."

"Did it … work?" Kirkland couldn't help himself, and Oma gave him a sharp look.

"You are lucky it did, or you vould definitely be dead."

"I should have been there …"

"Stop crying, I'm not dead!" It came out of his mouth before he'd thought about it, and Kirkland immediately regretted it.

"I wasn't crying." Albert looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"You need rest." Oma looked worried again, and Mint Bunny sniffed from over her shoulder.

"Sorry." The Bunny sniffled again, and Arthur felt himself falling back asleep, only to jerk awake again when he remembered what he'd wanted to say earlier.

"I think I'm a seer!" He half sat up, and he knew he looked wild, going off of their shocked looks.

"Was?" Oma put her hand on his chest again, pushing him down with alarm. "Do not move, you do not have zhe energy to spare."

"I- my dreams, I see things in my … dreams." He found that he was breathing hard, and he was so very, very tired. "But … I can't remember them …"

"Ve vill talk about this later, und I vill teach you how to remember, but for now, you need to rest, Artur. You almost died."

"Yeah, go to sleep. I'll watch you." Bunny offered, sounding resolved.

"All I've done is … bloody rest …" He sighed, unable to voice how creepy that was, and felt himself fall back towards the darkness. "Everyone is … conspiring against me."

The last thing he heard was a muttered word from Oma and a question from Albert, and then he was asleep.

When he woke, it was all dark again, except for the fact that the Bunny was nestled at the foot of the bed, sound asleep. He stretched physically this time, still feeling tired, and feeling annoyed for being tired. The Bunny rolled over as he slipped out of bed, and he privately thought that it was a lot cuter when it wasn't crying over him.

Faintly he wondered what felt different about waking up this time, then shrugged it off after a moment. Obviously it didn't matter much. He slipped quietly out of his room, and the kitchen was dark again, except that he noticed his book was on the table this time.

In half a second, it had all come back to him, and he picked up the book to look at his comfort spell. There was a note tucked into the book, and he summoned a light to look at it properly.

~Hetalia~Note~Hetalia~

 _Herr Kirkland,_

 _The comfort spell that you cast was still using energy to keep you warm. I was forced to break the spell. Do not attempt any others in my absence. You already slept a whole day due to your first accident, I do not want to find you on my floor again. I had to go to town to pick something up in the market. Albert will help you with anything you need. Do not take any unnecessary risks._

 _-Oma_

~Hetalia~Note~Hetalia~

He stared for a while at the note, then scowled. She'd broken his spell? Now he was cold again! Wonderful. Then again, she had saved his life … He'd wanted to tell her something, hadn't he? … He couldn't remember. He shrugged, then shoved the book and the note into the magical pocket.

Kirkland strode to the door, pulling on his coat. He was tired of being cooped up in the small cottage, and he'd go barmy if he had to stay there any longer. The morning was frigid, and he ruefully thought back to his comfort spell. It was really a pity that he didn't get to truly bask in its effects. Yet the cold did wake him up, and he trudged out into the snow.

He took a small path into the nearby forest, getting a good look at the small cottage and its scenery for the first time. It was … quaint. The rising sun really made it look quite wonderful, and after a moment, the Englishman turned to look at the forest behind him. It had been a long time since he'd really gone anywhere, and he was ready for a little walk.

For fun, he checked Alistair's token before he started off. It was blank, though he wasn't really expecting much else. After a moment of consideration, he put it into the magical pocket too, for safekeeping. It was the Scot's _last_ token, after all.

Kirkland had only been wandering for about 5 minutes before he heard the shouting. "Herr Kirkland! Herr Kirkland!"

It was Albert. The lad came jogging up out of breath, and Kirkland waited politely while the boy stooped to catch it. "Did you need something, lad?"

"You can't go off on your own like zhat." Albert was obviously trying to be authoritative, and it might have worked if he wasn't so young, out-of-breath, and very obviously _not_ in charge.

"Can't I?" Kirkland raised an the eyebrow that wasn't marred by the eyepatch. "Whyever not?"

"I- I'm supposed to … to help you."

"Help me what? Go for a walk?" Kirkland was annoyed now. The lad was more like Renheart than he had guessed.

"Oma told me to watch you."

"And she's your mother?" The Englishman regretted it before he'd finished voicing it, and Albert bristled visibly.

"She's my guardian, und has been for a while now."

Kirkland sighed. "I apologise for being short with you. I'm just a little tired of being coddled."

"I suppose zhat's understandable, but I have a job, und I'm going to do it."

"Right, then." Arthur nodded. "I won't stop you."

"Sehr gut." Albert grinned, and Kirkland noted that it lit up his face. "Now, you vanted to go on a valk?"

"I believe I said that, yes." Kirkland's other eyebrow vaulted up as the boy started off suddenly.

"I'll show you zhe best places!"

Just like that, and Kirkland was on an adventure. Hours of climbing, walking, laughing and talking with Albert, and he found the day going by much more quickly than he expected it to. Albert showed him all over the forest, they climbed a small hill by midday, and Albert revealed that he'd packed food.

They ate it and talked till sundown, Kirkland dancing around descriptions of what he'd done as a pirate while Albert told him exuberantly that he was going to be a Knight like Beilschmidt. The lad obviously thought of the juvenile knight as a role model and surrogate brother, and Kirkland found himself loathe to set the boy straight, despite thinking quite lowly of the Prussian himself.

He ended up telling Albert about the real England and his mission to get back to her, and he watched the boy's eyes shine. "You sound like Papa did vhen he talked about Prussia."

"Do I?" Kirkland smiled softly. "Then your father must have been a great man."

"Ja, he vas." Albert dropped his eyes to his hands. "I barely remember him, but I know zhat he vas right. Ve don't belong here. I want to see zhe real Prussia."

"Well, as soon as I get the resistance back up, I'll let you join it, then you can help yourself get home." Kirkland couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"I'm leaving vith you und Gilbert." Albert looked up to spear him with those blue eyes, and Kirkland stiffened. What?

"Who said that?"

"Gilbert promised me he vould take me vith him vhen you both left!" Albert was getting defensive. "I'm going to help you overthrow zhe Bosses!"

"You're not old enough-"

"I am old enough!"

"No, you're not. You haven't seen what happens to people out there who aren't prepared! You could get hurt, or worse!" All Kirkland could think about was Renheart's piercing cry and Farley's cold sentence.

"Nein! I am prepared! I have been prepared all my life!" Albert stood up now, to shout at him properly.

"No, you haven't!" Kirkland stood to shout back louder, and Albert was gone, young Renheart standing in his place with wavering resolve. There they were, on Bonnefoy's ship, and Kirkland knew that he had to get him off before Farley killed him. "You think you're ready, but you're not! I can't promise to always protect you! You could get killed! I'm not going to chance that!"

"You just don't vant to admit zhat I could actually help! You zhink zhat I'll only get in zhe vay!"

"No, Albert-" Kirkland raised his voice as the lad began to run. "Albert, that's not true!" The boy disappeared into the forest, running toward the cottage. "Albert!" Kirkland began to follow, slipping in the snow and rolling down the slope. An explosion shook the ground then, as surely as if he'd been on a ship that had just been hit with a cannonball. "ALBERT?!" Kirkland lurched to his feet, looking at the sky, which was painted orange by the sun, but now split in half with a column of smoke. He broke into a stumbling run towards what he knew to be the cottage.

Another explosion threw him into a nearby tree, and he braced himself on it. What could make a tremor so large that he felt it here?! Dread pooled in his stomach as he threw himself back onto the trail. He wasn't going to watch the Bosses ruin that boy's life again.

Kirkland knew when he neared the cottage. The snow was gone and the ground was scorched black. There were only two walls left standing where the cottage had been, and bile rose to his throat as he recognised the white garb of the five Boss-men that were standing all around the remnants. He looked more closely, and he saw Mint Bunny flying towards him in a panic. "They killed her! They killed the old lady!"

Kirkland lost his lunch in a nearby bush, almost missing the next words. "And they got the boy too! They're gonna kill him!"

"What?!" Kirkland stood shakily, looking back toward the group. Sure enough, his eyes picked out Albert in the midst of the men, who were all holding him tightly. "No. Not again!" The cry tore from his lips as he charged the group. Arthur didn't know a lot of magic, but he summoned up what he did know as he ran, making a light right on his sword, then brightening it to the point of blindness. He knew that they would have a hard time parrying something they couldn't bear to look at.

He heard them shouting to each other in German, but didn't stop as he flew in with his blade in one hand and his blunderbuss in the other. The next few moments were pure madness.

Kirkland took out one with a shot to the head, and he easily ran the next one through, ducking under a broadsword. Speed was his best asset, and he knew it as he dropped his gun and replaced it with a knife that he buried in the next man's neck. There were only two left, and it was pure instinct that made him throw the small ball far behind him where it exploded, taking some trees with it. So they were fighting with weapons from other Zones. He ran towards the last two, and watched one pull Albert back, a knife at his throat.

The Englishman killed the second to last man with a well placed sword thrust before he could throw another bomb, and pulled out his other knife to take care of the final man.

But he wasn't fast enough.

He watched in what felt like slow motion as the man sliced Albert's throat before taking the knife in his eye. "NO!"

Arthur hurried over to catch the falling boy, ignoring the very dead man behind him. "Nonononononono! No! You can't die! Not yet …" He held his hand over Albert's wound, staunching it as best he could, and he could see the lad's eyes dimming. "No, James- Albert … hang on, lad …"

He never got an answer, and the light left the boy's eyes. "No."

Kirkland wasn't sure how long he'd been kneeling there with the boy's head in his lap, but he didn't hear the footsteps behind him until it was almost too late. He snagged the knife off the ground and whirled around, throwing it at the next enemy. He heard a faint ping, and watched the knife fall away from Beilschmidt's shield to the ashen ground.

"Artur …" Beilschmidt's red eyes peeked over at him from behind the shield, and Gilbird softly flew off the man's head to flutter over to Albert, landing on his forehead.

"Get away from him!" Kirkland roared, and went to kill the bird with his bare hands, only to feel a tight grip on his wrist. Someone was talking to him, but he only had eyes and ears for the dead boy on the ground. He watched in surprise as Gilbird reverently closed the lad's eyes, then flew back to land on the Knight. Oh right, that's who was holding his wrist.

Kirkland turned back to Gilbert, and for the first time, became aware of the wetness on his face. He could see that Beilschmidt's eyes were red rimmed, and wondered why he hadn't noticed it before. The Knight's mouth was moving too, and Kirkland suddenly realized that they were at the edge of the forest, and he was sitting on a rock. How had that happened?

"Sorry?" He finally said, and sounds came to him suddenly, as though he'd been deaf, and now his hearing was restored.

"Artur, can you hear me?" Beilschmidt was kneeling in front of him, and Kirkland could see that the Knight was cleaning his knives and his sword, and he watched with strange detachment as the Prussian put all of his weapons back in his belt where they belonged.

"I- … what?" He remembered that he'd been asked a question, and wondered what it was.

"Artur, you're in shock."

"I … suppose I must- must be … yes." Arthur saw the knight sigh.

"Poopy Baby, I killed zhe only man who knew about mein bruder, but I didn't know zhat zhey knew about Oma und Albert. Zhis is my fault." The knight seemed disappointed by Arthur's lack of reaction.

"I couldn't save him." Kirkland said.

"I know." Beilschmidt stood, offering his hand. "Ve have to leave, zhey vill soon come for me."

"I tried to save him."

"Artur, ve need to leave."

"I wasn't fast enough."

Kirkland felt himself being pulled, though he wasn't sure where he was going, or who was pulling him. Was he walking? It was cold. So very, very cold.

He came to himself suddenly, and saw that he was on top of Gilberta, with Beilschmidt's cloak wrapped around him and a blanket under that. How had he gotten here? Beilschmidt was leading the horse in front of him, shivering every once in a while and Kirkland noted that it was about midnight.

"Beilschmidt?" He asked hesitantly, surprised by how sore his throat was, and how much more sore his eyes were. Flying Mint Bunny popped out from behind him with a cry of joy.

"I thought you were never going to be okay again!"

"Artur?" The knight had weariness etched into his very being, and especially in the slump of his shoulders and his subdued voice. "Can you hear me?"

"I- of course I can." Kirkland was becoming alarmed, how had he gotten here? "What happened?"

"Zhey killed Albert und Oma."

Oh.

"You were in deep shock, Artur. I vas wondering if you vould ever come back."

"I- I'm sorry …"

"It vas my fault, not yours." Came the weighted reply.

Kirkland stayed quiet for a moment after that. Then,

"Where are we going?"

"Ve are going deep into zhe forest. But now zhat you are avake, ve have to say goodbye to Gilberta."

"Why?"

"Zhey vill follow her trail." The knight sighed, and the horse stopped. Arthur got off of it, landing on shaky legs. He watched as the Knight slapped the horse's flank, and she dutifully ran off. The Knight then walked the other way. "Stay in my footsteps."

Kirkland did as he was told, thinking back to what had happened. He'd only been there for three days, really, so how could he have lost it all so quickly?

"Do you remember how to Jump?" Beilschmidt's tone said that he'd already asked it at least twice, and Kirkland answered.

"Yes."

"Gut. Do it now. Ve have to get out of here."

Kirkland wondered how to actually Jump, but Bunny flew up in front of him, patiently reminding, "Remember the hand movement? Do it again."

"Oh, right." He was about to do it, but paused. "Where are we going?"

"Any other zone." Beilschmidt sounded dead.

"Oh. … right." Kirkland waved his hand hesitantly. "Any other zone."

The green portal immediately appeared, and he could feel his already depleted energy leaving him. Beilschmidt pulled him through, and all was black once again.

* * *

 **Sorry. That chapter went literally everywhere. I apologise for that open ending, and for all the angst that I just put you through. Really, wow, that was even sadder than killing James, and we only knew Albert for like, … a chapter. This chapter.**

 **Still, all of that heart-rending stuff has a purpose.** **Which you will hopefully learn in a couple chapters. … We'll see.**

 **Thanks for sticking with me. I know I'm difficult to wait for, but I'm glad y'all care enough to.**

 **NOTE: You won't recognize one of the spanish kids, and that's cuz (spoilers) it's Mexico. … I dunno. I had to add him. he's cute. You'll love it.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reviewing and caring (AGirlCalledPadfoot), this is for you. :)**

 **Until next time,**

 **C Y'all.**

 **-Al**


	7. NOTICE

**THIS IS A NOTICE:**

 **So, If you look at my profile (I know it's long, but just scroll to the bottom), you'll see that I've left on a trip. This story will be on Hiatus until the end of said trip, and then I will finish it. I'll be getting back in the late fall of 2018, so until then, you can keep rereading what I've written, read someone else's undoubtably better material, or check out some of my other fandoms and favorites. I WILL be back, and I WILL finish my stories, barring my death (let's hope it doesn't come to that). So don't worry that I'll become one of those authors, since I never will, cuz I hate the never ended story worse than anyone else.**

 **I did take handwriting materials with me on my trip, so the updates will probably (I use the term loosely) be fairly generous when I return. Until then, enjoy what's up, and if you dare, you could even look through my list of fandoms and expand your own horizons. I mean, … if you like one of them … who's to say that you won't like them all?**

 **Thank you for all of your wonderful devotion and likes everyone, and I'm sorry that this isn't a chapter. I'll make up for it. I promise.**

 **THANK YOU FOR NOTICING.**

 **C Y'all**

 **-Al**


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